The old woman took the mirror (and held it) before her face, that she might beautify her cheeks and face and mouth.
پیش رو آیینه بگرفت آن عجوز ** تا بیاراید رخ و رخسار و پوز
She rubbed (them) gleefully (with) rouge several times, (but) the creases of her face did not become more concealed,1270
چند گلگونه بمالید از بطر ** سفرهی رویش نشد پوشیدهتر
(So) that filthy (hag) was cutting out portions of the Holy Book and sticking them on her face,
عشرهای مصحف از جا میبرید ** میبچفسانید بر رو آن پلید
In order that the creases of her face might be hidden, and that she might become the bezel in the ring of fair (women).
تا که سفرهی روی او پنهان شود ** تا نگین حلقهی خوبان شود
She was putting (these) bits of the Book all over her face, (but) they always dropped off when she put on her chádar (veil);
عشرها بر روی هر جا مینهاد ** چونک بر میبست چادر میفتاد
Then she would stick them on again with spittle on all sides of her face,
باز او آن عشرها را با خدو ** میبچفسانید بر اطراف رو
And once more that bezel (paragon of beauty) would arrange her veil, and (again) the bits of the Book would fall from her face to the ground.1275
باز چادر راست کردی آن تکین ** عشرها افتادی از رو بر زمین
Since they always dropped off though she tried many an artifice, (at last) she exclaimed, “A hundred curses on Iblís!”
چون بسی میکرد فن و آن میفتاد ** گفت صد لعنت بر آن ابلیس باد
Immediately Iblís took (visible) shape and said (to her), “O luckless dried-up harlot,
شد مصور آن زمان ابلیس زود ** گفت ای قحبهی قدید بیورود
In all my life I have never thought of this: I have never seen this (impiety practised) by any harlot except thee.
من همه عمر این نیندیشیدهام ** نه ز جز تو قحبهای این دیدهام
Thou hast sown unique seed in (the field of) infamy: thou hast not left a single Scripture (Qur’án) in the world.
تخم نادر در فضیحت کاشتی ** در جهان تو مصحفی نگذاشتی
Thou art a hundred Devils, troop on troop: let me alone, O foul hag!”1280
صد بلیسی تو خمیس اندر خمیس ** ترک من گوی ای عجوزهی دردبیس
How long will you steal portions of the lore of the Book, in order that your face may be coloured like an apple?
چند دزدی عشر از علم کتاب ** تا شود رویت ملون همچو سیب
How long will you steal the words of the men of God, that you may sell (them) and obtain applause (from the crowd)?
چند دزدی حرف مردان خدا ** تا فروشی و ستانی مرحبا
The daubed-on colour never made you (really) rosy; the tied-on bough never performed the function of the (fruit-bearing) stump (from which the dates are cut off).
رنگ بر بسته ترا گلگون نکرد ** شاخ بر بسته فن عرجون نکرد
At last, when the veil of death comes over you, these bits of the Book drop away from your face.
عاقبت چون چادر مرگت رسد ** از رخت این عشرها اندر فتد
When the call comes to arise and depart, thereafter (all) the arts of disputation vanish.1285
چونک آید خیزخیزان رحیل ** گم شود زان پس فنون قال و قیل
The world of silence comes into view. Stop (talking)! Alas for him that hath not a familiarity (with silence) within him!
عالم خاموشی آید پیش بیست ** وای آنک در درون انسیش نیست
Polish your breast (heart) for a day or two: make that mirror your book (of meditation),
صیقلی کن یک دو روزی سینه را ** دفتر خود ساز آن آیینه را
For from (seeing) the reflexion of the imperial Joseph old Zalíkhá became young anew.
که ز سایهی یوسف صاحبقران ** شد زلیخای عجوز از سر جوان
The chilly temperature of “the old woman's cold spell” is changed (into heat) by the sun of Tamúz (July).
میشود مبدل به خورشید تموز ** آن مزاح بارد برد العجوز
A dry-lipped bough is changed into a flourishing palm-tree by the burning (anguish) of a Mary.1290
میشود مبدل بسوز مریمی ** شاخ لب خشکی به نخلی خرمی
O (you who are like the) old woman, how long will you strive with the (Divine) destiny? Seek the cash now: let bygones be.
ای عجوزه چند کوشی با قضا ** نقد جو اکنون رها کن ما مضی
Since your face hath no hope of (acquiring) beauty, you may either put rouge (on it) or, if you wish, ink.
چون رخت را نیست در خوبی امید ** خواه گلگونه نه و خواهی مداد
Story of the sick man of whose recovery the physician despaired.
حکایت آن رنجور کی طبیب درو اومید صحت ندید
A certain sick man went to a physician and said, “Feel my pulse, O sagacious one,
آن یکی رنجور شد سوی طبیب ** گفت نبضم را فرو بین ای لبیب