Spiritual love در محبت روحانی

Spiritual love در محبت روحانی

Bustan Saadi بوستان سعدی

Since the love whose foundation, on lust, has its stand,
Is such a disturber and wields such command,
Do you wonder that travelers in God’s path are found
In the ocean of spiritual consciousness, drown’d?
  چو عشقی که بنیاد آن بر هواست
چنین فتنهانگیز و فرمانرواست
عجب داری از سالکان طریق
که باشند در بحر معنی غریق؟
In love for the Sweetheart, they care not for life ;
In the thought of the Friend, they have shunn’d Earthly strife
In remembrance of God, from the, people they’ve fled ;
With the Cup-bearer charmed, all the wine they have shed.  
  به سودای جانان ز جان مشتغل
به ذکر حبیب از جهان مشتغل
به یاد حق از خلق بگریخته
چنان مست ساقی که می ریخته
One cannot with medicine establish their cure,
For no one can tell the disease they endure.
For ever, “Am I not thy GodV they so hear,
That in clamouring ” Yes I ” they excited appear  
  نشاید به دارو دوا کردشان
که کس مطلع نیست بر دردشان
الست از ازل همچنانشان به گوش
به فریاد قالوا بلی در خروش
A group of Directors in lonely retreat
With their breath full of fire, although earthy their feet  
  گروهی عمل دار عزلت نشین
قدمهای خاکی، دم آتشین
They root up a hill from its site, with a cry,
And demolish a kingdom, at once, with a sigh.
Like the wind, they’re unseen and of hurricane speed ;
Like stone they are silent, and rosaries read.  
  به یک نعره کوهی ز جا برکنند
به یک ناله شهری به هم بر زنند
چو بادند پنهان و چالاک پوی
چو سنگند خاموش و تسبیح گوی
In the mornings, so much do they weep, that their tears,
From their eyes wash the ointment of sleep, that appears.
The horse has been killed, for they drove him all night ;
And they clamour at dawn, at their wearied-out plight.  
  سحرها بگریند چندان که آب
فرو شوید از دیده‌شان کحل خواب
فرس کشته از بس که شب رانده‌اند
سحر گه خروشان که وامانده‌اند
Night and day, in the sea of love’s burning, they stay ;
From amazement, they know not the night from the day.
For the great Artist’s beauty, so great is their craze
That the picture’s rare beauty attracts not their gaze.  
  شب و روز در بحر سودا و سوز
ندانند ز آشفتگی شب ز روز
چنان فتنه بر حسن صورت نگار
که با حسن صورت ندارند کار
Saints yield not their hearts to an elegant skin ;
If a fool has done so, he has no brains within.
ندادند صاحبدلان دل به پوست
وگر ابلهی داد بی مغز کوست
That person the pure wine of Unity drank,
Who this world and the next, in oblivion, sank  
  می صرف وحدت کسی نوش کرد
که دنیا و عقبی فراموش کرد

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