
Bustan Saadi بوستان سعدی
I thus have a tale from the men of the way — Beneficent poor; king-like beggars are they. In the morning, to beg, an old pauper set out; And on seeing the door of a mosque gave a shout | چنین نقل دارم ز مردان راه فقیران منعم، گدایان شاه که پیری به در یوزه شد بامداد در مسجدی دید و آواز داد |
This house,” some one answered, “belongs not to men Who are wont to give alms; wait not impudent, then !” He inquired of him, “Who is the lord of this place Where no mercy is shown towards any one’s case ?” | یکی گفتش این خانه خلق نیست که چیزی دهندت، بشوخی مایست بدو گفت کاین خانه کیست پس که بخشایشش نیست بر حال کس؟ |
Be silent,” he said, ” such false words to let fall ! The lord of this house is the Lord over all !” The lamps and the pray’r-niche, the old person eyed ; In warmth, from the depths of his heart, he replied : | بگفتا خموش، این چه لفظ خطاست خداوند خانه خداوند ماست نگه کرد و قندیل و محراب دید به سوز از جگر نعرهای بر کشید |
” What a pity it is to go on, from this place ! Disappointed to go from this door’s a disgrace. Not a street have I quitted, despairing, before ; Why should I, in shame, go away from this door? | که حیف است از این جا فراتر شدن دریغ است محروم از این در شدن نرفتم به محرومی از هیچ کوی چرا از در حق شوم زردروی؟ |
Here, too, I will stretch out the hand of demand, For I know that I will not return, with bare hand.” He sat for a year as a worshipper, there ; As a suppliant, lifted his hands up in pra’r. | هم این جا کنم دست خواهش دراز که دانم نگردم تهیدست باز شنیدم که سالی مجاور نشست چو فریاد خواهان برآورده دست |
The feet of his life sank, one night, in the mud, And his heart took to throbbing, from poorness of blood. In the morning, a lamp at his head some one laid, And saw his last breath, like the morning lamp, fade. | شبی پای عمرش فرو شد به گل تپیدن گرفت از ضعیفیش دل سحر برد شخصی چراغش به سر رمق دید از او چون چراغ سحر |
He was raving and saying in accents of pride : “Who f er knocked at the Bounteous One’s door, it oped wide!” To a searcher, endurance and patience are good ; I’ve not heard of an Alchymist, doleful in mood. | همیگفت غلغل کنان از فرح و من دق باب الکریم انفتح طلبکار باید صبور و حمول که نشنیدهام کیمیاگر ملول |
Much gold he converts into ashes, alas! In the hope that, one day, he’ll make gold out of brass. In purchasing, gold is a good thing to spend ; You can’t better buy, than the smiles of the ” friend.” | چه زرها به خاک سیه در کنند که باشد که روزی مسی زر کنند زر از بهر چیزی خریدن نکوست نخواهی خریدن به از یاد دوست |
If your heart, through a mistress, should suffer distress, Another grief soother you’ll get to caress. Don’t embitter your joy through a sour face, accursed ! With another one’s beauty, extinguish the first ! | گر از دلبری دل به تنگ آیدت دگر غمگساری به چنگ آیدت مبر تلخ عیشی ز روی ترش به آب دگر آتشش باز کش |
And yet, if in beauty she has not a peer, For a little annoyance, desert not the dear ! One can sever his heart from a person, ’tis true, When he finds he is able, without him, to do. | ولی گر به خوبی ندارد نظیر به اندک دل آزار ترکش مگیر توان از کسی دل بپرداختن که دانی که بی او توان ساختن |
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by: Reza about (category: Bustan Saadi)
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