Masnavi · 15th century

The Lute and the Aloeswood

Jamiجامی

عمرها شد تا درین دیر کهن

For ages now, in this ancient cloister,

تار نظمم بسته بر عود سخن

the string of my verse has been tied to the lute of speech.

هر زمان از نو نوایی می زنم

Each moment I strike up a new tune

دم ز دیرین ماجرایی می زنم

and speak of some story of long ago.

رفت عمر و این نوا آخر نشد

Life has gone, and this tune has not ended;

کاست جان وین ماجرا آخر نشد

the soul has waned, and this story has not ended.

پشت من چون چنگ خم گشت و هنوز

My back is bent like a harp, and still

هر شبی در ساز عودم تا به روز

every night until morning I am tuning my lute.

عود ناساز است و کرده روزگار

The lute is out of tune, and time

دست مطرب را ز پیری رعشه دار

has made the minstrel’s hand shake with age.

نغمه این عود موزون چون بود

How can this lute’s melody keep its measure?

لحن این مطرب به قانون چون بود

How can this minstrel’s song keep to the mode?

وقت شد کین عود را خوش بشکنم

It is time I broke this lute for good

بهر بوی خوش در آتش افکنم

and threw it on the fire for its sweet scent.

خام باشد عود را ناخوش زدن

It is crude to play the lute badly;

خوش بود در عود خام آتش زدن

it is good to set fire to raw aloeswood.

From: Salaman and Absal
Translation: Persiahaus Editors
Source: Draft translation from the Ganjoor text
Persian text: Ganjoor

A note for readers

From the prologue of Salaman and Absal, in a section on weakness and old age. Jami plays on the word ‘ud, which means both the lute and aloeswood, a fragrant wood burned as incense, and on kham, both ‘unskilled’ and ‘raw’: rather than keep playing an old lute that has lost its tune, the aged poet would throw it on the fire, where it can still give off its scent.