گر بر آن آتش بماندی آدمی ** بس خرابی در فتادی و کمی
If man were to remain in that fire (of grief), much ruin and loss would befall.
این جهان ویران شدی اندر زمان ** حرصها بیرون شدی از مردمان2065
This world would at once become desolate: (all) selfish desires would go forth from men.”
استن این عالم ای جان غفلت است ** هوشیاری این جهان را آفت است
Forgetfulness (of God), O beloved, is the pillar (prop) of this world: (spiritual) intelligence is a bane to this world.
هوشیاری ز آن جهان است و چو آن ** غالب آید پست گردد این جهان
Intelligence belongs to that (other) world, and when it prevails, this world is overthrown.
هوشیاری آفتاب و حرص یخ ** هوشیاری آب و این عالم وسخ
Intelligence is the sun and cupidity the ice; intelligence is the water and this world the dirt.
ز آن جهان اندک ترشح میرسد ** تا نغرد در جهان حرص و حسد
A little trickle (of intelligence) is coming from yonder world, that cupidity and envy may not roar (too loudly) in this world.
گر ترشح بیشتر گردد ز غیب ** نی هنر ماند در این عالم نه عیب2070
If the trickle from the Unseen should become greater, in this world neither virtue nor vice will be left.
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 پالدم2075
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 اوست2080
(Theirs is) the heart by which (all) hearts are made drunken, (theirs is) the nonexistence whereby these existences of ours are made existent.
کهربای فکر و هر آواز او ** لذت الهام و وحی و راز او
He (the saint) is the amber (magnet) of (all) thought and of every voice; he is the (inward) delight of revelation and inspiration and (Divine) mystery.
چون که مطرب پیرتر گشت و ضعیف ** شد ز بیکسبی رهین یک رغیف
When the minstrel grew older and feeble, through not earning (anything) he became indebted for a single loaf of bread.
گفت عمر و مهلتم دادی بسی ** لطفها کردی خدایا با خسی
He said, “Thou hast given me long life and respite: O God, Thou hast bestowed (many) favours on a vile wretch.
معصیت ورزیدهام هفتاد سال ** باز نگرفتی ز من روزی نوال
For seventy years I have been committing sin, (yet) not for one day hast Thou withheld Thy bounty from me.
نیست کسب امروز مهمان توام ** چنگ بهر تو زنم آن توام2085
I (can) earn nothing: to-day I am Thy guest, I will play the harp for Thee, I am Thine.”
چنگ را برداشت و شد الله جو ** سوی گورستان یثرب آه گو
He took up his harp and went in search of God to the graveyard of Medina, crying “Alas!”
گفت خواهم از حق ابریشم بها ** کاو به نیکویی پذیرد قلبها
He said, “I crave of God the price of silk (for harpstrings), for He in His kindness accepts adulterated coin.”
چون که زد بسیار و گریان سر نهاد ** چنگ بالین کرد و بر گوری فتاد
When he had played a long while and (then), weeping, laid his head down: he made the harp his pillow and dropped on a tomb.