His eyes shut, his reason flown, bewildered, the boastful Turk was intoxicated with guffaws.
پس سوم بار از قبا دزدید شاخ ** که ز خنده‌ش یافت میدان فراخ
Then for the third time he (the tailor) filched a strip from the coat (which he was cutting), since the Turk's laughter gave him ample scope (for his dexterity).
چون چهارم بار آن ترک خطا ** لاغ از آن استا همی‌کرد اقتضا 1705
When for the fourth time the Turk of Khitá was demanding a jest from the master(-tailor),
رحم آمد بر وی آن استاد را ** کرد در باقی فن و بیداد را
The master took pity on him and put aside (abandoned) artfulness and injustice.
گفت مولع گشت این مفتون درین ** بی‌خبر کین چه خسارست و غبین
He said (to himself), ‘This infatuated man has a great desire for these (facetious tales), not knowing what a loss and swindle they are (for him).’
بوسه‌افشان کرد بر استاد او ** که بمن بهر خدا افسانه گو
(Nevertheless) he (the Turk) showered kisses on (the face and eyes of) the master, crying, ‘For God's sake tell me a story!’
ای فسانه گشته و محو از وجود ** چند افسانه بخواهی آزمود
O thou who hast become a story and (art) dead to (useful) existence, how long wilt thou wish to make trial of stories?
خندمین‌تر از تو هیچ افسانه نیست ** بر لب گور خراب خویش ایست 1710
No story is more laughable than thou (thyself): stand (and meditate) on the edge of thine own ruinous grave!
ای فرو رفته به گور جهل و شک ** چند جویی لاغ و دستان فلک
O thou who hast gone down into the grave of ignorance and doubt, how long wilt thou seek (to hear) the jests and tales of Time?
تا بکی نوشی تو عشوه‌ی این جهان ** که نه عقلت ماند بر قانون نه جان
How long wilt thou listen to the blandishments of this world that leave neither thy mind underanged nor thy spirit?