این ندارد حد سوی آغاز رو ** سوی قصه‌‌ی مرد مطرب باز رو

This (topic) has no bound. Go to the starting-point, go back to the tale of the minstrel.

بقیه‌‌ی قصه‌‌ی پیر چنگی و بیان مخلص آن‌‌

The remainder of the story of the old harper and the explanation of its issue (moral)

مطربی کز وی جهان شد پر طرب ** رسته ز آوازش خیالات عجب‌‌

That minstrel by whom the world was filled with rapture, from whose voice wondrous phantasies grew (arose in the minds of those who heard him),

از نوایش مرغ دل پران شدی ** وز صدایش هوش جان حیران شدی‌‌

At whose song the bird of the soul would take wing, and at whose note the mind of the spirit would be distraught—

چون بر آمد روزگار و پیر شد ** باز جانش از عجز پشه‌‌گیر شد

When time passed and he grew old, from weakness the falcon, his soul, became a catcher of gnats.

پشت او خم گشت همچون پشت خم ** ابروان بر چشم همچون پالدم‌‌ 2075

His back became bent like the back of a wine-jar, the brows over his eyes like a crupper-strap.

گشت آواز لطیف جان فزاش ** زشت و نزد کس نیرزیدی به لاش‌‌

His charming soul-refreshing voice became ugly and worth nothing to any one.

آن نوای رشک زهره آمده ** همچو آواز خر پیری شده‌‌

The tone that had (once) been the envy of Zuhra (Venus) was now like the bray of an old donkey.

خود کدامین خوش که او ناخوش نشد ** یا کدامین سقف کان مفرش نشد

Truly, what sweet one is there that did not become unsweet, or what roof that did not become a carpet?—

غیر آواز عزیزان در صدور ** که بود از عکس دمشان نفخ صور

Except the voices of holy men in their breasts, from the repercussion of whose breath is the blast of the trumpet (of Resurrection).

اندرونی کاندرونها مست از اوست ** نیستی کاین هستهامان هست از اوست‌‌ 2080

(Theirs is) the heart by which (all) hearts are made drunken, (theirs is) the nonexistence whereby these existences of ours are made existent.