با خلیل آتش گل و ریحان و ورد ** باز بر نمرودیان مرگست و درد
The fire is (like) flowers and sweet basils and roses to (one like) Khalíl (Abraham); to those like Nimrod, on the contrary, it is death and anguish.
بارها گفتیم این را ای حسن ** مینگردم از بیانش سیر من
We have said this many a time, O Hasan: I will never be weary of setting it forth.
بارها خوردی تو نان دفع ذبول ** این همان نانست چون نبوی ملول
Many a time have you eaten bread to prevent (yourself from) getting thin: ’tis the same bread: why are not you surfeited?
در تو جوعی میرسد تو ز اعتلال ** که همیسوزد ازو تخمه و ملال
(Because), in normal health, a new hunger comes to you, by which indigestion and satiety are consumed.
هرکه را درد مجاعت نقد شد ** نو شدن با جزو جزوش عقد شد 4295
When one actually feels the pangs of hunger, a (sense of) refreshment is associated with every part (of the body).
لذت از جوعست نه از نقل نو ** با مجاعت از شکر به نان جو
The pleasure (of eating) is (derived) from hunger, not from new dessert (viands): hunger makes barley-bread more delicious than sugar.
پس ز بیجوعیست وز تخمهی تمام ** آن ملالت نه ز تکرار کلام
That weariness, then, is caused by lack of hunger (ardour) and complete (spiritual) indigestion, not by repetition of the discourse.
چون ز دکان و مکاس و قیل و قال ** در فریب مردمت ناید ملال
How is it that you are not weary of your shop and of haggling and disputing in order to cheat people?
چون ز غیبت و اکل لحم مردمان ** شصت سالت سیریی نامد از آن
How is it that you have not been surfeited by speaking ill of men in their absence and backbiting them for sixty years?
عشوهها در صید شلهی کفته تو ** بی ملولی بارها خوش گفته تو 4300
Time after time, without wearying, you have gaily spoken false words of flattery in pursuit of a vile woman; [Time after time, without wearying, you have gaily spoken false words of flattery in pursuit of a ruptured (deflowered) vulva;]
بار آخر گوییش سوزان و چست ** گرمتر صد بار از بار نخست
And the last time you utter them with fire and energy, a hundred times more ardently than the first time.
درد داروی کهن را نو کند ** درد هر شاخ ملولی خو کند
Passion makes the old medicine new; passion lops every bough of weariness.
کیمیای نو کننده دردهاست ** کو ملولی آن طرف که درد خاست
Passion is the elixir that makes (things) new: how (can there be) weariness where passion has arisen?
هین مزن تو از ملولی آه سرد ** درد جو و درد جو و درد درد
Oh, do not sigh heavily from weariness: seek passion, seek passion, passion, passion!
خادع دردند درمانهای ژاژ ** رهزنند و زرستانان رسم باژ 4305
Vain remedies (only) beguile (true) passion: they are (like) brigands and those who extort money in the form of tolls.
آب شوری نیست در مان عطش ** وقت خوردن گر نماید سرد و خوش
A briny water is no remedy for thirst: (even) if it seem cold and delicious at the moment of drinking,
لیک خادع گشته و مانع شد ز جست ** ز آب شیرینی کزو صد سبزه رست
Yet it beguiles (you) and prevents (you) from seeking the sweet water by which a hundred plants are made to grow.
همچنین هر زر قلبی مانعست ** از شناس زر خوش هرجا که هست
Likewise every piece of spurious gold prevents (you) from recognising the good (genuine) gold wherever it is (to be found).
پا و پرت را به تزویری برید ** که مراد تو منم گیر ای مرید
It (the spurious gold) cuts off your feet and (clips) your wings by imposture, saying, “I am what you seek: take me, O seeker.”
گفت دردت چینم او خود درد بود ** مات بود ار چه به ظاهر برد بود 4310
It says, “I will remove thy passion,” (but) in truth it is (worthless as) dregs: it is (really) checkmate (defeat) though it is victory in appearance.
رو ز درمان دروغین میگریز ** تا شود دردت مصیب و مشکبیز
Go, always be fleeing from the false remedy, in order that thy passion may be successful and rich in perfume.
گفت نه دزدی تو و نه فاسقی ** مرد نیکی لیک گول و احمقی
He (the night-patrol) said, “You are not a thief and you are not a reprobate: you are a good man, but you are foolish and silly.
بر خیال و خواب چندین ره کنی ** نیست عقلت را تسوی روشنی
You make such a long journey, (relying) on a phantasy and (mere) dream: your intelligence has not the least spark of brightness.
بارها من خواب دیدم مستمر ** که به بغدادست گنجی مستتر
I have dreamed many times, continuously, that there is a concealed treasure at Baghdád,
در فلان سوی و فلان کویی دفین ** بود آن خود نام کوی این حزین 4315
Buried in such-and-such a quarter and such-and-such a street” —the name, in fact, was that of the street where this sorrowful man lived.