1Cademy - (۷) حکایت پسر ماه روی با درویش صاحب نظر / (7) The Tale of the Moon-Faced Boy and the Insightful Dervish

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Elahi Nameh

Poem

(۷) حکایت پسر ماه روی با درویش صاحب نظر / (7) The Tale of the Moon-Faced Boy and the Insightful Dervish

Original content

یکی زیبا پسر مهروی بوده ست
که مشک از موی او یک موی بوده ست

سر زلفش که دالی داشت در سر
نبود آن دال جز دال علی الشر

به رخ در آینه مه در نظر داشت
به لب با لعل دستی در کمر داشت

چو پیوسته به ابرو صید دل کرد
ازهٔن پیوستگی او سجل کرد

دهانش بود چون حرفی ز شنگرف
شده از جزم وقفش بیست و نه حرف

درو از ضیق حرفی چون نگنجد
سزد کز بیست و نه بیرون نگنجد

زمانی ثقبه در گوش گهر کرد
زمانی حلقه در گوش قمر کرد

یکی درویش در عشقش زبون شد
دلی بود از همه نقدش که خون شد

چو عشق گرم در آتش فکندش
ز آتش گرم شد خود بند بندش

چو آخر طاقت او طاق آمد
بر آن دلبر آفاق آمد

بگفتا درد من درمان ندارد
که بی تو زیستن امکان ندارد

نخواهم بی تو یک دم زندگانی
مرا جانیست و بس، دیگر تو دانی

اگر می بخشیم افتاده ام من
وگر می بکشیم استاده ام من

مرا بی تو نه طاقت ماند نه تاب
بکن کاری که خواهی کرد، بشتاب

چو بشنید آن پسر از عاشق این راز
بدو گفتا اگر هستی تو جانباز

کشم در تنگ بیز امتحانت
ببینم احترام و قدر جانت

چو درویش این سخن بشنود برخاست
چو آتش گرم شد چون دود برخاست

پسر بر اسپ شد حالی سواره
به صحرا شد ز مردم بر کناره

رسن در گردن درویش افکند
پس آنگه اسپ را در پیش افکند

بتازید اسپ چون درویش دیدش
رسن در گردن از پی می دویدش

بسی در تگ ز هر سویش دوانید
بسی سختی به روی او رسانید

چو بسیارش دوانید آخر کار
به دشتی در کشیدش جمله پر خار

شکست آن بی سر و بن را به صد جای
چو شاخ گل هزاران خار در پای

چو شد معشوق از سرش خبردار
که هست آن عاشق بی دل گرفتار

ندارد هیچ شهوت صادقست او
به سر عشق بازی لایقست او

فرود آمد ز اسپ آن عالم آرای
نهادش بر کنار از مهر دل پای

به دست خویش یک یک خار دلدوز
برون می کرد از پایش همه روز

به دل می گفت با خود عاشق زار
چه بودی گر بدی هر خار صد خار

که گر تن را جراحت بیش بودی
دلم را روح و راحت بیش بودی

همی گفت این سخن در دل نهفته
ز خار پای چندان گل شکفته

که گر این خار در پایم نبودی
کنار این پسر جایم نبودی

چو در پای تو خار از بهر یارست
گلستانیست آن هر یک نه خارست

بسی بر نام او تا کشته گردی
همه اعضا به خون آغشته گردی

چو نام او بود خون خوارهٔ تو
کند بر خون تو نظارهٔ تو

English translation

There was once a beautiful, moon-faced boy, A single hair of whose locks was like musk. The tip of his tress, which formed a curve (dal) at its head, Was naught but a sign pointing to mischief (dal 'ala al-sharr). In his cheek, the moon beheld its own reflection; With his ruby lip, he held a hand on his waist. Since he constantly hunted hearts with his joined eyebrows, He registered a deed of ownership through this joining. His mouth was like a letter written in vermilion, For which the twenty-nine letters stood in silent stop. Since not a single word could fit therein due to its narrowness, It is fitting that it does not exceed the twenty-nine letters. At times he pierced the ear of the pearl, At times he placed a ring in the ear of the moon. A certain dervish fell helpless in love with him; His heart, which was his only coin, turned to blood. When the burning love cast him into the fire, Every joint of his body grew warm from that fire. When at last his endurance was exhausted, He came before that beloved of the horizons. He said: 'My pain has no cure, For living without you is impossible. I do not wish for a single moment of life without you; I have but one soul left, and the rest is up to you.' If you forgive me, I have fallen down, And if you slay me, I stand ready. Without you, I have neither strength nor endurance left; Do whatever you wish to do, and make haste.' When the boy heard this secret from the lover, He said to him: 'If you are indeed ready to risk your life, I shall drag you into the narrow sieve of trial, To see the value and worth of your life.' When the dervish heard this speech, he arose; He grew hot like fire, and rose up like smoke. The boy immediately mounted a horse And went to the wilderness, away from the people. He threw a rope around the dervish's neck, And then drove the horse forward. He galloped the horse, and when the dervish saw it, He ran behind with the rope around his neck. He made him run far and wide in every direction, And inflicted much hardship upon him. When he had made him run a great deal, at the end of the day, He dragged him into a plain completely filled with thorns. He broke that wretched, helpless one in a hundred places, Like a rose branch, with thousands of thorns in his feet. When the beloved became aware of his secret state, And saw that the heartless lover was indeed captive, Having no lust, but being sincere, And worthy of entering the path of love, That world-adorner dismounted from the horse And out of love placed the dervish's feet in his lap. With his own hand, one by one, the heart-piercing thorns He extracted from his feet throughout the day. The wretched lover was saying to himself in his heart: 'What would it be if each thorn had been a hundred thorns? For if the wounds of my body were greater, The peace and comfort of my soul would be more.' He kept saying this silently in his heart, While so many roses blossomed from the thorns in his feet: 'If this thorn had not been in my foot, My place would not have been in the lap of this boy. Since the thorn in your foot is for the sake of the Friend, Every single thorn is a rose garden, not a thorn. Endure much for His name until you are slain, And all your limbs are bathed in blood. When His name is the consumer of your blood, He will gaze upon your blood.'

Updated 2026-07-03

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