1Cademy - گفتهٔ دانای دین هنگام نزع / The Words of the Sage of Religion in His Death Throes

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گفتهٔ دانای دین هنگام نزع / The Words of the Sage of Religion in His Death Throes

Original content

چون به نزغ افتاد آن دانای دین
گفت اگر دانستمی من پیش ازین

کین شنو بر گفت چون دارد شرف
در سخن کی کردمی عمری تلف

گر سخن از نیکوی چون زر بود
آن سخن ناگفته نیکوتر بود

کار آمد حصهٔ مردان مرد
حصهٔ ما گفت آمد، اینت درد

گر چو مردان درد دین بودی ترا
آنچ می گویم یقین بودی ترا

ز آشنای خود دلت بیگانه ایست
هرچ می گویم ترا افسانه ایست

تو بخسب از ناز همچون سرکشی
تا منت افسانه می گویم خوشی

خوش خوشت عطار اگر افسانه گفت
خواب خوشتر آیدت تو خوش بخفت

بس که ما در ریگ رو غم ریختیم
بس گهر کز حلق خوک آویختیم

بس که ما این خوان فرو آراستیم
بس کزین خوان گرسنه برخاستیم

بس که گفتم نفس را فرمان نبرد
بس که دارو کردش و درمان نبرد

چون نخواهد آمد از من هیچ کار
شستم از خود دست و رفتم برکنار

جذبه حق باید ازیشان کرد خواست
کین به دست من نخواهد گشت راست

نفس هر لحظه چو فربه تر شود
نیست روی آنک ازین بهتر شود

هیچ نشنود او کزان فربه نشد
این همه بشنود یک دم به نشد

تا بمیرم من به صد زاری زار
او نگیرد پند، یا رب زینهار

English translation

When that wise man of religion fell into his death throes, he said, 'Had I known before this how listening has honor over speaking, when would I have wasted my life in talk? Even if speech were as precious as gold, that speech would be better left unsaid. Action became the portion of true men; our portion became talk—this is the pain! If you had the pain of religion like true men, what I say would be a certainty to you. Your heart is a stranger to its own intimate friend; everything I say to you is but a fable. Go to sleep in comfort like a rebellious one, while I tell you a pleasant fable. If Attar spoke a fable so gently to you, a sweet sleep will suit you better, so sleep well. How often we poured our grief on flowing sand! How many pearls we hung from the neck of swine! How often we decorated this banquet table! How often we rose hungry from this table! How often I spoke, but the self did not obey; how often I treated it, but the medicine did not cure. Since nothing will come from me, I washed my hands of myself and withdrew. The attraction of God must be sought from them, for this will not be set right by my hand. The self becomes fatter every moment; there is no prospect of it getting any better. It heard nothing that did not make it fatter; it heard all this and did not improve for a moment. Until I die with a hundred bitter groans, it will not take counsel; O Lord, protect us!'

Updated 2026-07-02

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