1Cademy - دفتر چهارم - بخش ۷۹ - قصهٔ سبحانی ما اعظم شانی گفتن ابویزید قدس الله سره و اعتراض مریدان و جواب این مر ایشان را نه به طریق گفت زبان بلک از راه عیان / Book Four - Section 79 - The Story of Abu Yazid - may God sanctify his secret - Saying Glory be to me, how great is my station, and the Disciples Objection, and His Answer to Them - Not by Way of Spoken Word but by Way of Manifest Vision

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مثنوی معنوی: دفتر چهارم / Masnavi: Book Four

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دفتر چهارم - بخش ۷۹ - قصهٔ سبحانی ما اعظم شانی گفتن ابویزید قدس الله سره و اعتراض مریدان و جواب این مر ایشان را نه به طریق گفت زبان بلک از راه عیان / Book Four - Section 79 - The Story of Abu Yazid - may God sanctify his secret - Saying 'Glory be to me, how great is my station', and the Disciples' Objection, and His Answer to Them - Not by Way of Spoken Word but by Way of Manifest Vision

Original content

با مریدان آن فقیر محتشم
بایزید آمد که نک یزدان منم

گفت مستانه عیان آن ذوفنون
لا اله الا انا ها فاعبدون

چون گذشت آن حال گفتندش صباح
تو چنین گفتی و این نبود صلاح

گفت این بار ار کنم من مشغله
کاردها بر من زنید آن دم هله

حق منزه از تن و من با تنم
چون چنین گویم بباید کشتنم

چون وصیت کرد آن آزادمرد
هر مریدی کاردی آماده کرد

مست گشت او باز از آن سغراق زفت
آن وصیتهاش از خاطر برفت

نقل آمد عقل او آواره شد
صبح آمد شمع او بیچاره شد

عقل چون شحنه‌ست چون سلطان رسید
شحنهٔ بیچاره در کنجی خزید

عقل سایهٔ حق بود حق آفتاب
سایه را با آفتاب او چه تاب

چون پری غالب شود بر آدمی
گم شود از مرد وصف مردمی

هر چه گوید آن پری گفته بود
زین سری زان آن سری گفته بود

چون پری را این دم و قانون بود
کردگار آن پری خود چون بود

اوی او رفته پری خود او شده
ترک بی‌الهام تازی‌گو شده

چون به خود آید نداند یک لغت
چون پری را هست این ذات و صفت

پس خداوند پری و آدمی
از پری کی باشدش آخر کمی

شیرگیر ار خون نره شیر خورد
تو بگویی او نکرد آن باده کرد

ور سخن پردازد از زر کهن
تو بگویی باده گفتست آن سخن

باده‌ای را می‌بود این شر و شور
نور حق را نیست آن فرهنگ و زور

که ترا از تو به کل خالی کند
تو شوی پست او سخن عالی کند

گر چه قرآن از لب پیغامبرست
هر که گوید حق نگفت او کافرست

چون همای بی‌خودی پرواز کرد
آن سخن را بایزید آغاز کرد

عقل را سیل تحیر در ربود
زان قوی‌تر گفت که اول گفته بود

نیست اندر جبه‌ام الا خدا
چند جویی بر زمین و بر سما

آن مریدان جمله دیوانه شدند
کاردها در جسم پاکش می‌زدند

هر یکی چون ملحدان گرده کوه
کارد می‌زد پیر خود را بی ستوه

هر که اندر شیخ تیغی می‌خلید
بازگونه از تن خود می‌درید

یک اثر نه بر تن آن ذوفنون
وان مریدان خسته و غرقاب خون

هر که او سویی گلویش زخم برد
حلق خود ببریده دید و زار مرد

وآنک او را زخم اندر سینه زد
سینه‌اش بشکافت و شد مردهٔ ابد

وآنک آگه بود از آن صاحب‌قران
دل ندادش که زند زخم گران

نیم‌دانش دست او را بسته کرد
جان ببرد الا که خود را خسته کرد

روز گشت و آن مریدان کاسته
نوحه‌ها از خانه‌شان برخاسته

پیش او آمد هزاران مرد و زن
کای دو عالم درج در یک پیرهن

این تن تو گر تن مردم بدی
چون تن مردم ز خنجر گم شدی

با خودی با بی‌خودی دوچار زد
با خود اندر دیدهٔ خود خار زد

ای زده بر بی‌خودان تو ذوالفقار
بر تن خود می‌زنی آن هوش دار

زانک بی‌خود فانی است و آمنست
تا ابد در آمنی او ساکنست

نقش او فانی و او شد آینه
غیر نقش روی غیر آن جای نه

گر کنی تف سوی روی خود کنی
ور زنی بر آینه بر خود زنی

ور ببینی روی زشت آن هم توی
ور ببینی عیسی و مریم توی

او نه اینست و نه آن او ساده است
نقش تو در پیش تو بنهاده است

چون رسید اینجا سخن لب در ببست
چون رسید اینجا قلم درهم شکست

لب ببند ار چه فصاحت دست داد
دم مزن والله اعلم بالرشاد

برکنار بامی ای مست مدام
پست بنشین یا فرود آ والسلام

هر زمانی که شدی تو کامران
آن دم خوش را کنار بام دان

بر زمان خوش هراسان باش تو
هم‌چو گنجش خفیه کن نه فاش تو

تا نیاید بر ولا ناگه بلا
ترس ترسان رو در آن مکمن هلا

ترس جان در وقت شادی از زوال
زان کنار بام غیبست ارتحال

گر نمی‌بینی کنار بام راز
روح می‌بیند که هستش اهتزاز

هر نکالی ناگهان کان آمدست
بر کنار کنگرهٔ شادی بدست

جز کنار بام خود نبود سقوط
اعتبار از قوم نوح و قوم لوط

English translation

The Story of Abū Yazīd — may God sanctify his secret — Saying "Subḥānī mā aʿẓama shaʾnī" (Glory be to me, how great is my station), and the Disciples' Objection, and His Answer to Them — Not by Way of Spoken Word but by Way of Manifest Vision

With his disciples, that majestic dervish, Bayazid came forth saying: "Behold — I am God!"

That master of many arts declared drunkenly, openly: "There is no god but I — come, worship Me."

When that state passed, in the morning they said to him: "You spoke such words, and this was not proper."

He said: "This time, if I raise such tumult, strike me with knives at that very moment — heed this!

The Real is transcendent of body, and I am with body; if I speak thus, I must be slain."

When that free man gave this testament, each disciple prepared a knife.

He became drunk again from that great cup, and his testaments departed from his memory.

The wine-morsel came; his reason went wandering. The morning came; his candle became helpless.

Reason is like the sheriff — when the Sultan arrives, the poor sheriff crawls into a corner.

Reason is the shadow of the Real; the Real is the sun. What endurance has shadow against that sun?

When a pari overpowers a man, the quality of humanity is lost from the man.

Whatever he says, the pari has spoken it — from this side, that other side has spoken.

If a pari possesses such breath and rule, how then must the Creator of that pari be?

His selfhood has gone; he himself has become the pari — a Turk, without inspiration, speaks Arabic.

When he comes to himself, he knows not a single word. Since a pari has this essence and attribute,

then the Lord of the pari and of man — could He ever be less than a pari?

If a lion-catcher drinks the blood of a male lion, you would say: "He did not do it — the wine did it."

And if he pours forth speech of ancient gold, you would say: "The wine spoke those words."

A wine has this turbulence and tumult, but the Light of the Real has no such manner or force —

It empties you of yourself entirely; you become low, and It speaks loftily.

Though the Qurʾan comes from the Prophet's lips, whoever says God did not speak it is an unbeliever.

When the Huma of selflessness took flight, Bayazid began those words again.

The flood of bewilderment swept away his reason; he spoke even more powerfully than before.

"There is nothing in my cloak but God — how long will you seek on earth and in the sky?"

All the disciples went mad — they were driving knives into his pure body.

Each one, like mountain-rolling heretics, stabbed his knife into his own master without hesitation.

Whoever thrust a blade into the Shaykh was in reverse riven from his own body.

Not a single mark on the body of that master of many arts, yet the disciples were wounded and drowning in blood.

Whoever drove a wound toward his throat saw his own throat cut and died wretchedly.

And the one who struck a wound to his chest — his own chest split open and he died forever.

And the one who was aware of that lord of the conjunction — his heart gave him no leave to strike a heavy blow.

Half-knowledge bound his hand — he kept his life, though he wounded himself.

Day came, and the disciples were diminished — lamentations rising from their homes.

Thousands of men and women came before him: "O you in whom both worlds are folded in one shirt!

If your body were an ordinary person's body, it would have perished from the dagger, as others' do."

He who had ego struck at the one without ego — he who had ego struck a thorn in his own eye.

O you who struck Dhu'l-Faqār against the selfless — you are striking your own body; be mindful!

For the selfless one is annihilated and is safe — forever dwelling in safety.

His form is annihilated and he has become a mirror — nothing there but the face of the Other, the reflection of the Other.

If you spit toward it, you spit toward your own face; if you strike the mirror, you strike yourself.

If you see an ugly face, that too is you; if you see Jesus and Mary, that too is you.

He is neither this nor that — he is pure. Your own image is placed before you.

When speech reached here, lips were sealed; when writing reached here, the pen broke.

Close your lips, though eloquence is at hand — breathe not; "God knows best the right guidance."

You are on the edge of a roof, O perpetually drunk one — sit low or come down, and peace be upon you.

Every moment that you become fulfilled, know that sweet moment as the edge of a roof.

Be fearful at times of joy — conceal it like a treasure, not openly.

So that misfortune may not suddenly come upon the closeness — go, trembling with fear, to that hidden shelter.

Fear for your soul, in times of joy, the passing away — for from that edge of the roof of the Unseen is the departure.

If you do not see the edge of the roof of mystery, the spirit sees it and trembles.

Every sudden punishment that has come was at the edge of the battlement of joy.

A fall can only come from the edge of one's own roof — take heed from the people of Noah and the people of Lot.

Updated 2026-05-09

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