Notwithstanding that this Spirit is so hidden, why is Reason so jealous of Him?
با چنین پنهانیی کین روح راست ** عقل بر وی این چنین رشکین چراست
O jealous one, from whom art thou hiding Him whose face is concealed by His light?690
از که پنهان میکنی ای رشکخو ** آنک پوشیدست نورش روی او
This Sun goes with face uncovered: His face is veiled by the excess of His light.
میرود بیرویپوش این آفتاب ** فرط نور اوست رویش را نقاب
From whom art thou hiding Him, O jealous one? The sun (itself) cannot see a trace of Him.
از که پنهان میکنی ای رشکور ** که آفتاب از وی نمیبیند اثر
(Reason says), “The jealousy in my body is (all) the greater because I desire to hide Him even from myself.
رشک از آن افزونترست اندر تنم ** کز خودش خواهم که هم پنهان کنم
On account of the fire of fell jealousy I am at war with my own eyes and ears.”
ز آتش رشک گران آهنگ من ** با دو چشم و گوش خود در جنگ من
Since thou hast such a (mighty) jealousy, O my soul and heart, close thy mouth and leave off speaking.695
چون چنین رشکیستت ای جان و دل ** پس دهان بر بند و گفتن را بهل
(Reason says), “If I keep silence, I fear that that Sun will rend the veil and (display Himself) from another quarter.”
ترسم ار خامش کنم آن آفتاب ** از سوی دیگر بدراند حجاب
In (keeping) silence our (inward) speaking (of Him) is (only) made more evident, since the desire (for manifestation) is increased by suppression.
در خموشی گفت ما اظهر شود ** که ز منع آن میل افزونتر شود
If the Sea roar, its roaring turns to foam and becomes the surge of “I desired to be known.”
گر بغرد بحر غرهش کف شود ** جوش احببت بان اعرف شود
To utter words (concerning Him) is to shut the window (through which He reveals Himself): the very act of expression is the concealment (of Him).
حرف گفتن بستن آن روزنست ** عین اظهار سخن پوشیدنست
Sing, like nightingales, in the presence of the Rose, in order that you may divert them from the scent of the Rose,700
بلبلانه نعره زن در روی گل ** تا کنی مشغولشان از بوی گل
So that their ears will be engaged in (listening to) the song, and their attention will not fly to the face of the Rose.
تا به قل مغشول گردد گوششان ** سوی روی گل نپرد هوششان
Before this Sun, which is exceedingly radiant, every guide is in reality a highway robber.
پیش این خورشید کو بس روشنیست ** در حقیقت هر دلیلی رهزنیست
Story of the minstrel who began to sing this ode at the banquet of the Turkish Amír: “Art Thou a rose or a lily or a cypress or a man? I know not. What dost Thou desire from this bewildered one who has lost his heart? I know not”— and how the Turk shouted at him, “Tell of that which you know!”—and the minstrel's reply to the Amír.
حکایت آن مطرب کی در بزم امیر ترک این غزل آغاز کرد گلی یا سوسنی یا سرو یا ماهی نمیدانم ازین آشفتهی بیدل چه میخواهی نمیدانم و بانگ بر زدن ترک کی آن بگو کی میدانی و جواب مطرب امیر را
In the presence of the drunken Turk the minstrel began (to sing of) the mysteries of Alast under the veil of melody—
مطرب آغازید پیش ترک مست ** در حجاب نغمه اسرار الست
“I know not whether Thou art a moon or an idol, I know not what Thou desirest of me.
من ندانم که تو ماهی یا وثن ** من ندانم تا چه میخواهی ز من
I know not what service I shall pay Thee, whether I shall keep silence or express Thee in words.705
میندانم که چه خدمت آرمت ** تن زنم یا در عبارت آرمت
’Tis marvellous that Thou art not separate from me, (and yet) where am I, and where Thou, I know not.
این عجب که نیستی از من جدا ** میندانم من کجاام تو کجا
I know not how Thou art drawing me: Thou drawest me now into Thy bosom, now into blood.”
میندانم که مرا چون میکشی ** گاه در بر گاه در خون میکشی
In this fashion he opened his lips (only) to say “I know not”: he made a tune of “I know not, I know not.”
همچنین لب در ندانم باز کرد ** میندانم میندانم ساز کرد
When (the refrain) “I know not” passed beyond bounds, our Turk was amazed and his heart became sick of this ditty.
چون ز حد شد میندانم از شگفت ** ترک ما را زین حراره دل گرفت
The Turk leaped up and fetched an iron mace to smite the minstrel's head with it on the spot;710
برجهید آن ترک و دبوسی کشید ** تا علیها بر سر مطرب رسید
(But) an officer seized the mace with his hand, saying, “Nay; ’tis wicked to kill the minstrel at this moment.”
گرز را بگرفت سرهنگی بدست ** گفت نه مطرب کشی این دم بدست
He (the Turk) replied, “This endless and countless repetition of his has pounded my nerves: I will pound his head.
گفت این تکرار بی حد و مرش ** کوفت طبعم را بکوبم من سرش
O cuckold, (if) you don't know, don't talk nonsense; and if you do know, play (a tune) to the purpose.
قلتبانا میندانی گه مخور ** ور همیدانی بزن مقصود بر