Bustan Saadi بوستان سعدی
There dwelt in Ardbil, once, a man of strong thew, Who could pierce with his arrows a spade through and through. To fight him a man clothed in felt came from far A strife-raising youth and promoter of war | یکی آهنین پنجه در اردبیل همی بگذرانید پیلک ز پیل نمد پوشی آمد به جنگش فراز جوانی جهان سوز پیکار ساز |
He was like Bihram-Ghor, in his search for a fray; On his shoulder a noose of wild ass’s skin lay. | به پرخاش جستن چو بهرام گور کمندی به کتفش بر از خام گور |
چو دید اردبیلی نمد پاره پوش کمان در زه آورده و زه را به گوش | |
Fifty arrows of poplar he shot at this foe; Through the armour of felt not an arrow would go. Like the hero Dastan the brave youth joined the fight; In the coil of his noose snared his enemy tight | به پنجاه تیر خدنگش بزد که یک چوبه بیرون نرفت از نمد درآمد نمدپوش چون سام گرد به خم کمندش درآورد و برد |
To the door of his tent, in the camp-pitching ground, His hands to his neck, like a robber’s, he bound. He slept not, from pride and from shame, all the night; A slave shputed out from a tent, at daylight: | به لشکرگهش برد و در خیمه دست چو دزدان خونی به گردن ببست شب از غیرت و شرمساری نخفت سحرگه پرستاری از خیمه گفت |
” As the felt-clad one’s prisoner, why are you here, Who can penetrate iron with arrows and spear? I have heard he wept blood, and thus said in reply: “Don’t you know you can’t live when the Fates bid you die? | تو کهن به ناوک بدوزی و تیر نمدپوش را چون فتادی اسیر؟ شنیدم که میگفت و خون میگریست ندانی که روز اجل کس نزیست؟ |
xI am he who in using the sword and the dart, Could the tactics of war unto Rustam impart. When the arm of my fortune was strong in degree, A thick iron spade seemed like felt unto me. | من آنم که در شیوه طعن و ضرب به رستم در آموزم آداب حرب چو بازوی بختم قوی حال بود ستبری پیلم نمد مینمود |
But now that good luck from my fingers has strayed, Felt in front of my shafts, is as good as a spade.” When Death comes, a spear will pierce armour, indeed, But will not pierce a shirt, if it is not decreed. | کنونم که در پنجه اقبیل نیست نمد پیش تیرم کم از پیل نیست به روز اجل نیزه جوشن درد ز پیراهن بی اجل نگذرد |
He who has the fell sabre of death at his rear, Will be mide, though his armour should triple appear. And should Fortune befriend -and Time’s aid he obtain, Though naked, he cannot by dagger be slain. | کرا تیغ قهر اجل در قفاست برهنهست اگر جوشنش چند لاست ورش بخت یاور بود، دهر پشت برهنه نشاید به ساطور کشت |
The sage by his striving escaped not from fate, And the fool did not die from the rubbish he ate. | نه دانا به سعی از اجل جان ببرد نه نادان به ناساز خوردن بمرد |
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by: Reza about (category: Bustan Saadi)
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