Story ON THE REPENTANCE OF THE PRINCE OF GUNJA حکایت توبه کردن ملک زاده گنجه

Story ON THE REPENTANCE OF THE PRINCE OF GUNJA حکایت توبه کردن ملک زاده گنجه

Bustan Saadi بوستان سعدی

In the city of Gunja1 a prince chanced to dwell;
A nobody, filthy and cruel, as well.
He came singing to mosque, having tippled too much,
With wine in his head and a cup in his clutch.
یکی پادشهزاده در گنجه بود
که دور از تو ناپاک و سرپنجه بود
به مسجد در آمد سرایان و مست
می اندر سر و ساتگینی به دست
In the city of Gunja a prince chanced to dwell;
A nobody, filthy and cruel, as well.
He came singing to mosque, having tippled too much,
With wine in his head and a cup in his clutch.
یکی پادشه‌زاده در گنجه بود
که دور از تو ناپاک و سرپنجه بود
به مسجد در آمد سرایان و مست
می اندر سر و ساتگینی به دست
A pietist lived in the holiest part,
With tongue heart-suspending and pitying heart.
Some people had gathered to hear his address —
When you fail to be learned than the hearer you’re less —
به مقصوره در پارسایی مقیم
زبانی دلاویز و قلبی سلیم
تنی چند بر گفت او مجتمع
چو عالم نباشی کم از مستمع
When that obstinate scapegrace dishonour professed,
These pious men’s hearts became greatly distressed.
When the feet of a king from the path of truth stray,
Who is able to boast of his virtuous sway?
چو بی عزتی پیشه کرد آن حرون
شدند آن عزیزان خراب اندرون
چو منکر بود پادشه را قدم
که یارد زد از امر معروف دم؟
The odour of garlic drowns that of the rose;
The sound of a lute near a drum weakness shows.
If orders prohibiting crime you emit;
Like paralysed people, you ought not to sit!
تحکم کند سیر بر بوی گل
فرو ماند آواز چنگ از دهل
گرت نهی منکر برآید ز دست
نشاید چو بی دست و پایان نشست
And if you possess not command over speech,
Who becomes pure in soul by the doctrines you teach?
When away from the hand and the tongue pow has fled,
Men exhibit their manhood in prayers, instead.
وگر دست قدرت نداری، بگوی
که پاکیزه گردد به اندرز خوی
چو دست و زبان را نماند مجال
به همت نمایند مردی رجال
One in front of the hermit, of knowledge profound,
Lamented and wept, with his head on the ground;
Saying, ” Once, on the part of this drunk debauchee,
Say a prayer ! for speechless and powMess are we.”
یکی پیش دانای خلوت نشین
بنالید و بگریست سر بر زمین
که باری بر این رند ناپاک و مست
دعا کن که ما بی زبانیم و دست
From a heart well-informed one sigh fervent and long,
Is than seventy swords and war-axes more strong.
he experienced person then raised his hands high;
What said he? ” Oh Lord of the earth and the sky!
دمی سوزناک از دلی با خبر
قوی تر که هفتاد تیغ و تبر
بر آورد مرد جهاندیده دست
چه گفت ای خداوند بالا و پست
The Fates have made pleasant the time of this boy
Oh God ! throughout life may he pleasure enjoy!”
A person addressed him, “Oh guide to the truth!
Why asked you that good might befall this vile youth?
خوش است این پسر وقتش از روزگار
خدایا همه وقت او خوش بدار
کسی گفتش ای قدوه راستی
بر این بد چرا نیکویی خواستی؟
Why do you wish well for an infidel pest?
On the city and people, why evil request? ”
The cautious observer replied in this way:
” Since you know not the secret of words, do not bray!
چو بد عهد را نیک خواهی ز بهر
چه بد خواستی بر سر خلق شهر؟
چنین گفت بیننده تیز هوش
چو سر سخن در نیابی مجوش
With words of two meanings my prayer was fraught;
From the Author of Justice his penance I sought
When a man to abandon his vices contrives,
In Paradise, doubtless, with joy he arrives.
به طامات مجلس نیاراستم
ز داد آفرین توبه‌اش خواستم
که هرگه که بازآید از خوی زشت
به عیشی رسد جاودان در بهشت
The ‘five days'” resemble the pleasure of wine;
When abandoned, the soul gains the pleasure divine.”
To repeat what was said by the subtle-tongued man,
A friend from their midst to the king’s presence ran.  
همین پنج روزست عیش مدام
به ترک اندرش عیشهای مدام
حدیثی که مرد سخن ساز گفت
کسی زان میان با ملک باز گفت
The king’s eyes from rapture rilled, cloud-like, with tears,
And a torrent of grief on his features appears.
By the fire of desire his bad conscience was burned;
From shame his sad eyes on his insteps were turned.
ز وجد آب در چشمش آمد چو میغ
ببارید بر چهره سیل دریغ
به نیران شوق اندرونش بسوخت
حیا دیده بر پشت پایش بدوخت
At regret’s portal knocking, he made some one go
To the man of kind heart, saying, “Soother of woe!
Oh come, that my head I may prostrate to-day!
My ignorant head that has erred from the way! ”
بر نیک محضر فرستاد کس
در توبه کوبان که فریاد رس
قدم رنجه فرمای تا سر نهم
سر جهل و ناراستی بر نهم
The soldiers in rows stood protecting the gate;
The orator reached the king’s palace in state.
He saw sugar and jujubes, and candles and wine;
A town full of blessings and men drunk as swine.
نصیحتگر آمد به ایوان شاه
نظر کرد در صفه بارگاه
شکر دید و عناب و شمع و شراب
ده از نعمت آباد و مردم خراب
One was senseless, another half drunk tried to stand;
One was singing a song with a cup in his hand.
The clamour of minstrels arose from one rink;
From another the cup-bearer’s voice, crying, ” Drink! ”
یکی غایب از خود، یکی نیم مست
یکی شعر گویان صراحی به دست
ز سویی برآورده مطرب خروش
ز دیگر سو آواز ساقی که نوش
And the harper’s head, harp-like from sleep, sought his breast
Among the companions of noble degree,
The narcissus alone open-eyed you could see.
The harp and the cymbal in unison bound,
حریفان خراب از می لعل رنگ
سرچنگی از خواب در بر چو چنگ
نبود از ندیمان گردن فراز
بجز نرگس آن جا کسی دیده باز
They shiver the harps and they sever the strings,
From the middle of discord produced a shrill sound.
The king had them broken in pieces, like pegs,
And pure-looking pleasure was changed into dregs.
دف و چنگ با یکدگر سازگار
برآورده زیر از میان ناله زار
بفرمود و درهم شکستند خرد
مبدل شد این عیش صافی به درد
And turn out the songster while loudly he sings.
The jars in the wine cellar smashed they right small;
The gourds they demolished and broke one and all.
Harps lying inverted wine flowing a flood;
شکستند چنگ و گسستند رود
بدر کرد گوینده از سر سرود
به میخانه در سنگ بردن زدند
کدو را نشاندند و گردن زدند
You’d have said from a goose newly killed ran the blood.
Jars pregnant with wine were by no means expert;
But in casting their loads in the strife were alert
می لاله گون از بط سرنگون
روان همچنان کز بط کشته خون
خم آبستن خمر نه ماهه بود
در آن فتنه دختر بینداخت زود
They ripped the wine bags to the navel in height;
The jars’ bloody eyes were in tears at the sight.
He ordered; the palace-yard stones they out-threw,
And the court of the palace they wholly renew;
شکم تا به نافش دریدند مشک
قدح را بر او چشم خونی پر اشک
بفرمود تا سنگ صحن سرای
بکندند و کردند نو باز جای
For the ruby-like wine’s red, indelible stain,
They in vain tried to wash from the marble again.
If the drains became ruined, no wonder! for they
Drank wine to excess in the course of that day.
که گلگونه خمر یاقوت فام
به شستن نمی‌شد ز روی رخام
عجب نیست بالوعه گر شد خراب
که خورد اندر آن روز چندان شراب
Wherever one held in his fingers a harp,
Like a drum, he was beaten by men’s fingers sharp.
If a profligate carried a lute on his back,
His ear, like a tambour, got many a whack.
دگر هر که بر بط گرفتی به کف
قفا خوردی از دست مردم چو دف
وگر فاسقی چنگ بردی به دوش
بمالیدی او را چو طنبور گوش
The youth who with pride and wild thoughts had been fired,
Like a saint, to the nook of devotion retired.
His father had oft spoken words meant to scare:
Let your conduct be pure and your language be fair! ”
جوان را سر از کبر و پندار مست
چو پیران به کنج عبادت نشست
پدر بارها گفته بودش بهول
که شایسته رو باش و پاکیزه قول
He bore his sire’s harshness ; the fetters and jail,
Compared with advice, were of little avail.
If the speaker said words that were harsh or were kind,
Saying, “Folly and childishness cast from your mind! ”
جفای پدر برد و زندان و بند
چنان سودمندش نیامد که پند
گرش سخت گفتی سخنگوی سهل
که بیرون کن از سر جوانی و جهل
His fancies and arrogance reached such a height,
That he left not a Dervish alive in his sight.
The thundering lion submits not in war;
But reflects when he hears the keen sword, the guitar.
خیال و غرورش بر آن داشتی
که درویش را زنده نگذاشتی
سپر نفگند شیر غران ز جنگ
نیندیشد از تیغ بران پلنگ
By mildness, a foe to a friend you may change;
When you treat a friend badly, the friend you estrange.
The person who, anvil-like, hardens his face,
Must his head ‘neath the hammer of chastisement place
بنرمی ز دشمن توان کرد دوست
چو با دوست سختی کنی دشمن اوست
چو سندان کسی سخت رویی نکرد
که خایسک تأدیب بر سر نخورد
When you speak, you should never abuse the Ameer!
When you find he is harsh, very gentle appear!
By the virtues ! conciliate all you may see;
Whether humble in rank or of lofty degree!
به گفتن درشتی مکن با امیر
چو بینی که سختی کند، سست گیر
به اخلاق با هر که بینی بساز
اگر زیر دست است و گر سرفراز
For the one lifts his head, though retiring in mood,
By words that are kind, and the other’s subdued.
With sweetness of speech you can bear off the ball;
The hot-tempered carries off grief, and that’s all.
که این گردن از نازکی بر کشد
به گفتار خوش، و آن سر اندر کشد
به شیرین زبانی توان برد گوی
که پیوسته تلخی برد تند روی
Accept you from Sadi sweet speech, while ’tis nigh!
To the sour-visaged man, say, “In misery die!”
تو شیرین زبانی ز سعدی بگیر
ترش روی را گو به تلخی بمیر

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