The master (goldsmith) said, “Go, I have no sieve.” “Give me the scales,” he replied, “and don't stop to jest like this.”1625
گفت خواجه رو مرا غربال نیست ** گفت میزان ده برین تسخر مه‌ایست
He said, “I have no broom in the shop.” “Enough, enough!” cried the other; “leave these jokes.
گفت جاروبی ندارم در دکان ** گفت بس بس این مضاحک رابمان
Give (me) the scales which I am asking for; don't make yourself out to be deaf, don't jump in every direction.”
من ترازویی که می‌خواهم بده ** خویشتن را کر مکن هر سو مجه
He (the goldsmith) said, “I heard what you said, I am not deaf; you must not think that I am nonsensical.
گفت بشنیدم سخن کر نیستم ** تا نپنداری که بی معنیستم
I heard this (request), but you are a shaky old man: your hand is trembling and your body is not erect;
این شنیدم لیک پیری مرتعش ** دست لرزان جسم تو نا منتعش
And moreover that gold of yours consists of little tiny filings: your hand trembles, so the fragments of gold will drop (from it);1630
وان زر تو هم قراضه‌ی خرد مرد ** دست لرزد پس بریزد زر خرد
Then you will say, ‘Sir, fetch a broom, that I may look in the dust for my gold.’
پس بگویی خواجه جاروبی بیار ** تا بجویم زر خود را در غبار
When you sweep (with the broom), you will gather dust (along with the gold); you will say to me, ‘I want the sieve, O gallant man.’
چون بروبی خاک را جمع آوری ** گوییم غلبیر خواهم ای جری
I from the beginning discerned the end complete. Go from here to some other place, and farewell!”
من ز اول دیدم آخر را تمام ** جای دیگر رو ازینجا والسلام
The rest of the Story of the ascetic of the mountain who had made a vow that he would not pluck any mountain fruit from the trees or shake the trees or tell any one to shake them, either plainly or in veiled terms, and that he would only eat what the wind might cause to fall from the trees.
بقیه‌ی قصه‌ی آن زاهد کوهی کی نذر کرده بود کی میوه‌ی کوهی از درخت باز نکنم و درخت نفشانم و کسی را نگویم صریح و کنایت کی بیفشان آن خورم کی باد افکنده باشد از درخت
On that mountain were trees and fruits; there were many mountain-pears- (they were) numberless.
اندر آن که بود اشجار و ثمار ** بس مرودی کوهی آنجا بی‌شمار