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دفتر سوم - بخش ۳ - بقیهٔ قصهٔ متعرضان پیل‌بچگان / Book Three - Section 3 - The Rest of the Tale of the Assailants of the Elephant-Calves

Original content

هر دهان را پیل بویی می‌کند
گرد معدهٔ هر بشر بر می‌تند

تا کجا یابد کباب پور خویش
تا نماید انتقام و زور خویش

گوشتهای بندگان حق خوری
غیبت ایشان کنی کیفر بری

هان که بویای دهانتان خالقست
کی برد جان غیر آن کو صادقست

وای آن افسوسیی کش بوی‌گیر
باشد اندر گور منکر یا نکیر

نه دهان دزدیدن امکان زان مهان
نه دهان خوش کردن از دارودهان

آب و روغن نیست مر روپوش را
راه حیلت نیست عقل و هوش را

چند کوبد زخمهای گرزشان
بر سر هر ژاژخا و مرزشان

گرز عزرائیل را بنگر اثر
گر نبینی چوب و آهن در صور

هم بصورت می‌نماید گه گهی
زان همان رنجور باشد آگهی

گوید آن رنجور ای یاران من
چیست این شمشیر بر ساران من

ما نمی‌بینیم باشد این خیال
چه خیالست این که این هست ارتحال

چه خیالست این که این چرخ نگون
از نهیب این خیالی شد کنون

گرزها و تیغها محسوس شد
پیش بیمار و سرش منکوس شد

او همی‌بیند که آن از بهر اوست
چشم دشمن بسته زان و چشم دوست

حرص دنیا رفت و چشمش تیز شد
چشم او روشن گه خون‌ریز شد

مرغ بی‌هنگام شد آن چشم او
از نتیجهٔ کبر او و خشم او

سر بریدن واجب آید مرغ را
کو بغیر وقت جنباند درا

هر زمان نزعیست جزو جانت را
بنگر اندر نزع جان ایمانت را

عمر تو مانند همیان زرست
روز و شب مانند دینار اشمرست

می‌شمارد می‌دهد زر بی وقوف
تا که خالی گردد و آید خسوف

گر ز که بستانی و ننهی بجای
اندر آید کوه زان دادن ز پای

پس بنه بر جای هر دم را عوض
تا ز واسجد واقترب یابی غرض

در تمامی کارها چندین مکوش
جز به کاری که بود در دین مکوش

عاقبت تو رفت خواهی ناتمام
کارهاات ابتر و نان تو خام

وان عمارت کردن گور و لحد
نه به سنگست و به چوب و نه لبد

بلک خود را در صفا گوری کنی
در منی او کنی دفن منی

خاک او گردی و مدفون غمش
تا دمت یابد مددها از دمش

گورخانه و قبه‌ها و کنگره
نبود از اصحاب معنی آن سره

بنگر اکنون زنده اطلس‌پوش را
هیچ اطلس دست گیرد هوش را

در عذاب منکرست آن جان او
گزدم غم دل دل غمدان او

از برون بر ظاهرش نقش و نگار
وز درون ز اندیشه‌ها او زار زار

و آن یکی بینی در آن دلق کهن
چون نبات اندیشه و شکر سخن

English translation

Every mouth the elephant smells; around the stomach of every person it circles, to see where it may find the roasted flesh of its young, so that it may show its vengeance and its power. You eat the flesh of God's servants; you backbite them, and you will suffer punishment. Beware, for the Creator is the smeller of your mouths; who can carry off his soul except one who is truthful? Woe to that wretched one whose smell-takers in the grave are Munkar or Nakir. There is no possibility of stealing the mouth away from those great ones, nor of sweetening the mouth with mouthwash. There is no water or oil for covering the face; there is no path of trickery for intellect and wit. How many blows their maces strike on the head of every babbler and boundary-crosser. Look at the effect of Azrael's mace, even if you do not see wood and iron in bodily forms. Yet in bodily form it appears from time to time; only the sick person is aware of that. That sick person says, "O my friends, what is this sword above my head?" We do not see it; perhaps this is imagination. What imagination is this, when this is departure? What imagination is this, by whose terror this inverted sky has now become so? Maces and swords became perceptible before the sick man, and his head was lowered. He sees that it is for him; the eye of the enemy is closed to it, and the eye of the friend as well. Worldly greed went away and his eye grew sharp; his eye became bright at the blood-shedding moment. That eye of his became an ill-timed bird, from the result of his pride and anger. It becomes necessary to cut off the bird's head when it moves its bell at the wrong time. Every moment there is a death-agony for a part of your soul; look into the death-agony of the soul of your faith. Your life is like a purse of gold; day and night are like the dinar-counter. It counts and gives away gold unknowingly, until it becomes empty and an eclipse arrives. If you take from a mountain and do not put back in its place, the mountain will be brought down by that giving. So put compensation in place for each breath, so that through "prostrate and draw near" you may reach the goal. Do not strive so much in every kind of work; strive only in work that belongs to religion. In the end you will depart unfinished, your works cut short and your bread unbaked. And building that grave and tomb is not with stone, nor with wood, nor with felt. Rather, make yourself a grave in purity; bury your I-ness in His I-ness. Become His dust and buried in grief for Him, so that your breath may receive helps from His breath. Tomb-houses and domes and battlements are not the pure coin among the people of meaning. Look now at the living one dressed in satin: does satin ever take intelligence by the hand? His soul is in the torment of Munkar; the scorpion of grief is in his heart, and his heart is a grief-house. Outside, his appearance is pattern and ornament; inside, from thoughts, he is wretched and lamenting. And you see another in that old patched cloak, like sugar-cane in thought and sugar in speech.

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Updated 2026-06-07

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