1Cademy - (۲) حکایت آن جوان که از زخم سنگ منجیق بیفتاد / (2) The Tale of the Youth Who Fell from the Wound of a Catapult Stone

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Elahi Nameh

Poem

(۲) حکایت آن جوان که از زخم سنگ منجیق بیفتاد / (2) The Tale of the Youth Who Fell from the Wound of a Catapult Stone

Original content

جوانی داشت دیرینه رفیقی
رسیدش زخم سنگ منجنیقی

میان خاک و خون آغشته می گشت
رسیده جان بلب سرگشته می گشت

دمی دو مانده بود از زندگانیش
رفیق اندر میان ناتوانیش

بدو گفتا بگو تا چونی آخر
جوابش داد تو مجنونی آخر

اگر سنگی رسد از منجنیقت
بدانی تو که چونست این رفیقت

ولی ناخورده سنگی کی بدانی؟
بگفت این و برست از زندگانی

تو نشناسی که مردان در چه دردند
ولی دانند درد آنها که مردند

اگر درد مرا دانی دوائی
بکن ور نه برو بنشین بجائی

نصیب من چو ماهم زیر میغست
دریغست ودریغست و دریغست

مرا صد گونه اندوهست اینجا
که هر یک مه ز صد کوهست اینجا

اگر من قصهٔ اندوه گویم
بر دریا و پیش کوه گویم

شود چون سیل کوه اینجا ز اندوه
چو دریا اشک گردد جملهٔ کوه

چنین نقلی درست آمد ز اخبار
که هر روزی که صبح آید پدیدار

میان چار رکن و هفت دایر
شود هفتاد میغ از غیب ظاهر

بر آن دل کو ز حق اندوه دارد
ز شست و نه برو اندوه بارد

ولی هر دل که از حق باشدش صبر
همه شادی برو بارد بیک ابر

زمین و آسمان دریای دردست
نگردد غرقه هر کو مرد مردست

چو گیرم بر کنار بحر خانه
ز موجم بیم باشد جاودانه

فرو رفتم بدریائی من ای دوست
که جان صد هزاران غرقهٔ اوست

چو چندین جان فرو شد هر زمانی
کجا بادید آید نیم جانی

عجب نبود که گم گردم بیکبار
عجب باشد اگر آیم پدیدار

English translation

A youth had an old friend, He received a wound from a catapult stone. Mingled in dust and blood, he rolled about, His soul reaching his lips, he wandered bewildered. A breath or two of his life remained, His friend, seeing him in his weakness, Said to him, 'Tell me, how are you at last?' He answered him, 'You are truly mad! If a stone from your catapult reaches you, You will know how this friend of yours is. But having not suffered a stone, how would you know?' He said this and escaped from life. You do not know what pain men are in, But those who have died know their pain. If you know a cure for my pain, Apply it; otherwise, go and sit somewhere. My portion is like the moon under a cloud, It is a pity, and a pity, and a pity! I have a hundred kinds of sorrow here, Each of which is greater than a hundred mountains here. If I were to tell the tale of my sorrow To the sea and before the mountain, The mountain here would become a flood from sorrow, The entire mountain would turn to tears like the sea. Such a true narration has come from the traditions, That every day when the morning appears, Among the four pillars and seven spheres, Seventy clouds appear from the unseen. Upon that heart which holds sorrow for the Truth, Sixty-nine of them rain down sorrow. But any heart that has patience from the Truth, All joy rains upon it from a single cloud. The earth and the sky are a sea of pain, Whoever is a true man does not drown. If I take a house on the shore of the sea, I will be forever in fear of the wave. I have plunged into a sea, O friend, In which hundreds of thousands of souls are drowned. When so many souls sink every moment, Where will half a soul ever appear? It is no wonder if I am lost all at once, It would be a wonder if I ever become visible.

Updated 2026-07-03

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