1Cademy - دفتر سوم - بخش ۵۴ - حکایت آن شخص کی در عهد داود شب و روز دعا می‌کرد کی مرا روزی حلال ده بی رنج / Book Three - Section 54 - The Tale of the Man Who in the Time of David Prayed Night and Day, Saying Give Me Lawful Provision Without Toil

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مثنوی معنوی: دفتر سوم / Masnavi: Book Three

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دفتر سوم - بخش ۵۴ - حکایت آن شخص کی در عهد داود شب و روز دعا می‌کرد کی مرا روزی حلال ده بی رنج / Book Three - Section 54 - The Tale of the Man Who in the Time of David Prayed Night and Day, Saying 'Give Me Lawful Provision Without Toil'

Original content

آن یکی در عهد داوود نبی
نزد هر دانا و پیش هر غبی

این دعا می کرد دایم کای خدا
ثروتی بی رنج روزی کن مرا

چون مرا تو آفریدی کاهلی
زخم خواری سست جنبی منبلی

بر خران پشت ریش بی مراد
بار اسپان و استران نتوان نهاد

کاهلم چون آفریدی ای ملی
روزیم ده هم ز راه کاهلی

کاهلم من سایه خسپم در وجود
خفتم اندر سایهٔ این فضل و جود

کاهلان و سایه خسپان را مگر
روزیی بنوشته ای نوعی دگر

هر که را پایست جوید روزیی
هر که را پا نیست کن دلسوزیی

رزق را می ران به سوی آن حزین
ابر را باران به سوی هر زمین

چون زمین را پا نباشد جود تو
ابر را راند به سوی او دوتو

طفل را چون پا نباشد مادرش
آید و ریزد وظیفه بر سرش

روزیی خواهم به ناگه بی تعب
که ندارم من ز کوشش جز طلب

مدت بسیار می کرد این دعا
روز تا شب، شب همه شب تا ضحی

خلق می خندید بر گفتار او
بر طمع خامی و بر بیگار او

که چه می گوید عجب این سست ریش
یا کسی دادست بنگ بیهشیش

راه روزی کسب و رنجست و تعب
هر کسی را پیشه ای داد و طلب

اطلبوا الارزاق فی اسبابها
ادخلو الاوطان من ابوابها

شاه و سلطان و رسول حق کنون
هست داود نبی ذو فنون

با چنان عزی و نازی کاندروست
که گزیدستش عنایتهای دوست

معجزاتش بی شمار و بی عدد
موج بخشایش مدد اندر مدد

هیچ کس را خود ز آدم تا کنون
کی بدست آواز صد چون ارغنون

که بهر وعظی بمیراند دویست
آدمی را صوت خوبش کرد نیست

شیر و آهو جمع گردد آن زمان
سوی تذکیرش مغفل این از آن

کوه و مرغان هم رسایل با دمش
هردو اندر وقت دعوت محرمش

این و صد چندین مرورا معجزات
نور رویش بی جهات و در جهات

با همه تمکین خدا روزی او
کرده باشد بسته اندر جست و جو

بی زره بافی و رنجی روزیش
می نیاید با همه پیروزیش

این چنین مخذول واپس مانده ای
خانه کندهٔ دون و گردون رانده ای

این چنین مدبر همی خواهد که زود
بی تجارت پر کند دامن ز سود

این چنین گیجی بیامد در میان
که بر آیم بر فلک بی نردبان

این همی گفتش بتسخر رو بگیر
که رسیدت روزی و آمد بشیر

و آن همی خندید ما را هم بده
زانچ یابی هدیه ای سالار ده

او ازین تشنیع مردم وین فسوس
کم نمی کرد از دعا و چاپلوس

تا که شد در شهر معروف و شهیر
کو ز انبان تهی جوید پنیر

شد مثل در خام طبعی آن گدا
او ازین خواهش نمی آمد جدا

English translation

There was a man in the time of David the Prophet, Known before every wise man and every fool— He was constantly making this supplication: "O God, Grant me abundant provision without toil. Since You created me as idle, Wound-bearing, slow-moving, and sluggish— On sore-backed, hapless donkeys One cannot place the loads of horses and mules— Since You created me idle, O Wealthy One, Grant me provision too through the path of idleness. I am idle; I sleep in the shade in my existence; I have slept in the shadow of Your grace and generosity. Perhaps for the idle and the shade-sleepers You have written a provision of a different kind. Whoever has feet, let them seek provision; Whoever has no feet, show compassion. Drive provision toward that grief-stricken one; Drive the rain-cloud toward every land. Since the earth has no feet, Your generosity Drives the cloud toward it, bowed double. When a child has no feet, its mother Comes and pours its allotted portion upon it. I want provision that comes suddenly, without toil— For from striving I have nothing but the asking itself." For a long time he made this supplication, From day to night, all through the night until the forenoon. People were laughing at his words, At his raw greed and at his futile effort: "What is this feeble-bearded one saying—how strange! Or has someone given him hemp to make him senseless? The path of provision is earning, suffering, and toil; Every person has been given a trade and the seeking. Seek provisions through their means; Enter homelands through their doors." The king, sultan, and messenger of the Truth now Is David the Prophet, master of many arts, With such glory and grace as dwell in him, For the favors of the Beloved have chosen him. His miracles are innumerable and countless— Waves of mercy, aid upon aid. Has any person from Adam until now Ever had a voice like a hundred organs, That at each sermon two hundred would die? His beautiful voice made people cease to exist. Lion and deer would gather at that time Toward his remembrance, heedless of each other. Mountain and birds were co-participants with his breath, Both his intimates at the time of his calling. These and a hundredfold more were his miracles; The light of his countenance beyond direction and in all directions. With all this, God has bound his provision To seeking and striving. Without weaving chainmail and toil, his provision Would not come, for all his triumph. Such an abject, left-behind wretch, A low cave-dweller, outcast by the wheel of fortune— Such an ill-fated one wants quickly, Without commerce, to fill his lap with profit. Such a dizzied fool has come forward, Saying: "I shall mount to the sky without a ladder." One would mockingly say to him: "Go, take it— Your provision has arrived; the herald has come!" And another would laugh: "Give us some too— Of what you find, give a gift, O chief!" He, from the people's taunts and this mockery, Would not diminish his supplication and fawning at all, Until he became known and famous in the city For seeking cheese from an empty bag. That beggar became a proverb for raw-naturedness; He would not separate himself from this desire.

Updated 2026-06-30

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