Story of ibn-abdul-aziz, and his signet ring حکایت در معنی شفقت

Bustan Saadi بوستان سعدی

Of people discreet, one among the grandees,
A story relates of Ibn- Abdul- Aziz: —
His ring had a stone in its centre, so rare,
That the jeweller could not its value declare.  
  یکی از بزرگان اهل تمیز
حکایت کند ز ابن عبدالعزیز
که بودش نگینی بر انگشتری
فرو مانده در قیمتش جوهری
At night, you’d have said that that world-lighting ray,
Was a gem that in brightness resembled the day.
It happened one year that a famine set in,
And full-moon-like men as the crescent grew thin.  
به شب گفتی از جرم گیتی فروز
دری بود در روشنایی چو روز
قضا را درآمد یکی خشک سال
که شد بدر سیمای مردم هلال
When of comfort and strength he saw men dispossessed,
He thought it unmanly that he should have rest.
When in ev’ry one’s mouth one sees poison, alas!
Adown his own throat when will sweet water pass?
چو در مردم آرام و قوت ندید
خود آسوده بودن مروت ندید
چو بیند کسی زهر در کام خلق
کیش بگذرد آب نوشین به حلق
He ordered, they bartered the jewel for gold,
For he pitied the orphan, the poor, and the old.
For the space of a week he gave money, like spoil,
To the poor and the needy and weak of the soil.  
بفرمود و بفروختندش به سیم
که رحم آمدش بر غریب و یتیم
به یک هفته نقدش به تاراج داد
به درویش و مسکین و محتاج داد
The censurers blamed him for doing amiss,
Saying, ” Hope not again for a jewel like this! ”
I have heard that he said — and a shower of tears
Trickled down his pale cheeks, as a candle appears
فتادند در وی ملامت کنان
که دیگر به دستت نیاید چنان
شنیدم که می‌گفت و باران دمع
فرو می‌دویدش به عارض چو شمع
“Very ugly an ornament shows on the king,
Whose subjects are tortured by Poverty’s sting.
A ring without gems is becoming to me;
The people’s hearts sad ’tis unpleasant to see.”
که زشت است پیرایه بر شهریار
دل شهری از ناتوانی فگار
مرا شاید انگشتری بی‌نگین
نشاید دل خلقی اندوهگین
He is happy who tries man and woman to please,
And prefers others’ joy to his own selfish ease.
Those cherishing virtue no eagerness show
For delight to themselves, wrung from other men’s woe.
خنک آن که آسایش مرد و زن
گزیند بر آرایش خویشتن
نکردند رغبت هنر پروران
به شادی خویش از غم دیگران
If the monarch sleeps happy, reclined on his throne,
To the poor, J suspect, soothing sleep is unknown.
And if through the night-long he vigils should keep,
In comfort and pleasure his subjects will sleep.  
اگر خوش بخسبد ملک بر سریر
نپندارم آسوده خسبد فقیر
وگر زنده دارد شب دیر تاز
بخسبند مردم به آرام و ناز
And, praise be to God! this right nature and road,
On At&bak-Bu-Bakar-Bin-Sdd are bestowed.
Of tumult in Persia, one sees not a trace,
Excepting the moon-visaged’s figure and face.
بحمدالله این سیرت و راه راست
اتابک ابوبکر بن سعد راست
کس از فتنه در پارس دیگر نشان
نبیند مگر قامت مهوشان
A song of five couplets I heard with delight,
That was sung at a musical party last night
یکی پنج بیتم خوش آمد به گوش
که در مجلسی می‌سرودند دوش
Last night I had pleasure in life for a space,
For that moon-visaged maiden was in my embrace.
On perceiving that sleep had bewildered her head,
“Oh slumber transported, beloved one !” I said;
مرا راحت از زندگی دوش بود
که آن ماهرویم در آغوش بود
مر او را چو دیدم سر از خواب مست
بدو گفتم ای سرو پیش تو پست
“Wash slumber away from your eyes, for a while!
Like the nightingale sing! like the rose-blossom smile!
Oh plague of the world! why thus, sleeping, recline?
Come and bring with you some of last night’s ruby wine!
دمی نرگس از خواب نوشین بشوی
چو گلبن بخند و چو بلبل بگوی
چه می‌خسبی ای فتنه روزگار؟
بیا و می لعل نوشین بیار
Bewildered through sleep, she beheld me and spake: —
“You call me a trouble, and say, ‘ Keep awake! ‘ ”
In the days of the monarch of luminous mind,
None again will the nuisance of wakefulness rind.
نگه کرد شوریده از خواب و گفت
مرا فتنه خوانی و گویی مخفت
در ایام سلطان روشن نفس
نبیند دگر فتنه بیدار کس


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