The Scorpion of Exile
Naser Khosrowناصرخسرو
آزرده کرد کژدم غربت جگر مرا
The scorpion of exile has stung me to the liver;
گوئی زبون نیافت ز گیتی مگر مرا
it seems it found no one in the world weaker than me.
در حال خویشتن چو همی ژرف بنگرم
When I look deeply into my own condition,
صفرا همی برآید از انده به سر مرا
bile rises to my head from sorrow.
گویم: چرا نشانهٔ تیر زمانه کرد
I ask: why has the high, ignorant and unjust wheel
چرخ بلند جاهل بیدادگر مرا
made me the target of Time’s arrows?
گر در کمال فضل بود مرد را خطر
If a man’s worth lies in the perfection of his learning,
چون خوار و زار کرد پس این بی خطر مرا؟
why then has this worthless heaven made me low and wretched?
A note for readers
The opening couplets of a qasida of exile, usually read in the light of Naser Khosrow’s last years as a refugee at Yumgan in Badakhshan, after he was driven from Balkh for his Ismaili preaching. Later in the poem he answers his own complaint: against the army of Time, faith and reason are army and shield enough. The excerpt gives the first four couplets.
More poemsشعرهای دیگر
یک عمر می‌توان سخن از زلف یار گفت
در بند آن مباش که مضمون نمانده است
One could speak for a lifetime of the beloved’s tresses;
do not fret that there are no themes left.
A Lifetime on the Beloved’s Tresses
بلبلی برگ گلی خوش رنگ در منقار داشت
و اندر آن برگ و نوا خوش ناله‌های زار داشت
A nightingale held in its beak a rose petal of lovely colour,
and with that petal and its song it made sweet, piteous laments.
A nightingale held a rose petal
ستاره ای بدرخشید و ماه مجلس شد
دل رمیده ما را رفیق و مونس شد
A star shone out and became the moon of the gathering,
became friend and companion to our startled heart.