Story of the poor theologian and the proud cazi حکایت دانشمند

Story of the poor theologian and the proud cazi حکایت دانشمند

Bustan Saadi بوستان سعدی

A poor theologian in old raiment dressed,
Sat down in the hall of a judge, with the best
The Cazi1 beheld him with ire in his eyes;
The mace-bearer tugged at his sleeve, saying, ” Rise!
فقیهی کهن جامهای تنگدست
در ایوان قاضی به صف برنشست
نگه کرد قاضی در او تیز تیز
معرف گرفت آستینش که خیز
It does not become you, the best place to seize;
Sit lower or leave, or stand up if you please!
In the ranks of the great, do not haughtily crow!
Since you do not have claws, tiger tricks do not show!
ندانی که برتر مقام تو نیست
فروتر نشین، یا برو، یا بایست
Ev’ry one is not worthy to fill the chief seat;
You see greatness with rank, rank with merit you meet.
نه هرکس سزاوار باشد به صدر
کرامت به فضل است و رتبت به قدر
What need have you, then, of a person’s advice?
The shame, as a punishment, ought to suffice!
The man who sits lower, with honour to show,
Does not tumble disgraced from above down below.”
دگر ره چه حاجت به پند کست؟
همین شرمساری عقوبت بست
به عزت هر آن کو فروتر نشست
به خواری نیفتد ز بالا به پست
به جای بزرگان دلیری مکن
چو سر پنجه‌ات نیست شیری مکن
چو دید آن خردمند درویش رنگ
که بنشست و برخاست بختش به جنگ
From the breast of the Dervish, like fire the smoke welled;
He sat lower down than the place he first held
The divines, in their way of disputing then pranced;
The ” Why ” and ” We do not admit” they advanced.
چو آتش برآورد بیچاره دود
فروتر نشست از مقامی که بود
فقیهان طریق جدل ساختند
لم و لا اسلم درانداختند
They together the portal of discord oped wide,
And extended their necks, as they ” Yes” and “No” cried.
You’d have said that bold cocks, as not seldom occurs,
Were fighting together with beaks and with spurs.
گشادند بر هم در فتنه باز
به لا و نعم کرده گردن دراز
تو گفتی خروسان شاطر به جنگ
فتادند در هم به منقار و چنگ
As if drunk one beside himself passionate stands;
Another is beating the floor with his hands.
They fell into knots of an intricate kind,
And a way to undo them were helpless to find
یکی بی خود از خشمناکی چو مست
یکی بر زمین می‌زند هر دو دست
فتادند در عقده‌ای پیچ پیچ
که در حل آن ره نبردند هیچ
The man in old clothes on the very last seat,
Like a fierce roaring lion vexed, sprang to his feet.
کهن جامه در صف آخرترین
به غرش درآمد چو شیر عرین
بگفت ای صنا دید شرع رسول
به ابلاغ تنزیل و فقه و اصول
“Proofs clear and convincing are needed,” he yelled,
“Not the veins of the neck with wild arguments swelled!
The club and the ball, too, of letters I hold.”
They said, ” If proficient, your knowledge unfold! ”
دلایل قوی باید و معنوی
نه رگهای گردن به حجت قوی
مرا نیز چوگان لعب است و گوی
بگفتند اگر نیک دانی بگوی
With rhetoric’s pen the clear proofs he possessed,
On their hearts as if graved on a seal he impressed.
From substance to spirit his head he out-drew;
Their lines of pretension he passed his pen through.
به کلک فصاحت بیانی که داشت
به دلها چو نقش نگین برنگاشت
سر از کوی صورت به معنی کشید
قلم در سر حرف دعوی کشید
From every corner applause they proclaimed;
At his wisdom and nature, “Well done!” they exclaimed.
He the dun horse of eloquence urged to such pass,
That the Cazi remained in the mud, like an ass.
بگفتندش از هر کنار آفرین
که بر عقل و طبعت هزار آفرین
سمند سخن تا به جایی براند
که قاضی چو خر در وحل بازماند
His robe and the turban he wore on his head,
In honour and kindness he sent him and said:
” Alas ! that I failed your great merits to know,
And thanks for your coming neglected to show!
برون آمد از طاق و دستار خویش
به اکرام و لطفش فرستاد پیش
که هیهات قدر تو نشناختیم
به شکر قدومت نپرداختیم
I am sorry, that having such wisdom in store,
You appear in a state I am forced to deplore.”
To console him the mace-bearer near to him sped;
The Cazfs rich turban to place on his head.
دریغ آیدم با چنین مایه‌ای
که بینم تو را در چنین پایه‌ای
معرف به دلداری آمد برش
که دستار قاضی نهد بر سرش
With his hand and his tongue he opposed him: ” Away
The fetters of pride on my head do not lay!
For to-morrow to those with old. turbans you’d see,
With a fifty-yard turban, me proud as could be.
به دست و زبان منع کردش که دور
منه بر سرم پای بند غرور
که فردا شود بر کهن میزران
به دستار پنجه گزم سرگران
When they call me a lord and a mighty Ameer,
Other men in my eyes will like rubbish appear.
Does it make any diff erence if water quite pure,
Is held in a golden or earthenware ewer?
چو مولام خوانند و صدر کبیر
نمایند مردم به چشمم حقیر
تفاوت کند هرگز آب زلال
گرش کوزه زرین بود یا سفال؟
In the head of a man brains and wisdom should be,
A turban like yours is unsuited to me.
From bigness of head no one benefit gains;
A pumpkin’s big-headed but does not have brains.
خرد باید اندر سر مرد و مغز
نباید مرا چون تو دستار نغز
کس از سر بزرگی نباشد به چیز
کدو سر بزرگ است و بی مغز نیز
For turban and beard raise your neck not, alas!
For your turban is cotton, your whiskers dry grass.
All those who a human appearance possess,
Do well if like idols they silence profess!
میفراز گردن به دستار و ریش
که دستار پنبه‌ست و سبلت حشیش
به صورت کسانی که مردم وشند
چو صورت همان به که دم درکشند
A rank must be sought in accordance with worth;
Do not, Saturn-like, greatness and troubles bring forth!
The merit of cane, used for matting, is size;
In its substance, the virtue of sugar-cane lies.
به قدر هنر جست باید محل
بلندی و نحسی مکن چون زحل
نی بوریا را بلندی نکوست
که خاصیت نیشکر خود در اوست
With such wisdom and spirit, I call you not man!
Although hundreds of slaves in your following ran!
How well spoke the Cowrie? bespattered with mire,
When a fool picked it up, full of eager desire:  
بدین عقل و همت نخوانم کست
وگر می‌رود صد غلام از پست
چه خوش گفت خر مهره‌ای در گلی
چو بر داشتش پر طمع جاهلی
‘To buy me for anything, none will aspire,
Do not, madly, bedeck me in silken attire! ‘
مرا کس نخواهد خریدن به هیچ
به دیوانگی در حریرم مپیچ
خبزدو همان قدر دارد که هست
وگر در میان شقایق نشست
A rich man by his wealth does not others surpass;
Clothe a donkey in satin and still he’s an ass! ”
In this manner, the clever and eloquent sage,
With the water of speech washed his mouth free from rage.
نه منعم به مال از کسی بهترست
خر ار جل اطلس بپوشد خرست
بدین شیوه مرد سخنگوی چست
به آب سخن کینه از دل بشست
The words of a person heart-grieved are severe;
When your enemy falls, do not lazy appear!
Remove your foe’s brain, when he comes in your pow’r!
For, fit time will all dust from the heart surely scour.
xدل آزرده را سخت باشد سخن
چو خصمت بیفتاد سستی مکن
چو دستت رسد مغز دشمن برآر
که فرصت فرو شوید از دل غبار
So subdued by his harshness the Cazi remained,
That he said, “To a hard day, indeed, I’ve attained.”
He gnawed at his hands with the teeth of surprise;
Like the two polar stars, he fixed <on him his eyes
چنان ماند قاضی به جورش اسیر
که گفت ان هذا لیوم عسیر
به دندان گزید از تعجب یدین
بماندش در او دیده چون فرقدین
The youth turned his face of resolve from that place;
Out he hurried and no one again found his trace.
‘Mong the chiefs of the assembly a clamour arose:
“Where this speaker so forward belongs to, who knows?”
وزان جا جوان روی همت بتافت
برون رفت و بازش نشان کس نیافت
غریو از بزرگان مجلس بخاست
که گویی چنین شوخ چشم از کجاست؟
The mace-bearer after him everywhere hied;
“Who has seen one who suits this description?” he cried.
نقیب از پیش رفت و هر سو دوید
که مردی بدین نعت و صورت که دید؟
Some one said, “Such a man, whose sweet temper is known,
In this city I recognize Sadi, alone.”
یکی گفت از این نوع شیرین نفس
در این شهر سعدی شناسیم و بس
Five score thousands of praises on him I invoke,
For he said bitter truths, yet how sweetly he spoke!
بر آن صد هزار آفرین کاین بگفت
حق تلخ بین تا چه شیرین بگفت

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