Poem

دفتر ششم - بخش ۶۹ - باز دادن شاه گنج‌نامه را به آن فقیر کی بگیر ما از سر این برخاستیم / Book Six - Section 69 - The King returning the treasure map to that poor man, saying: 'Take it, we have given this up'

Original content

چونک رقعهٔ گنج پر آشوب را
شه مسلم داشت آن مکروب را

گشت آمن او ز خصمان و ز نیش
رفت و می پیچید در سودای خویش

یار کرد او عشق درداندیش را
کلب لیسد خویش ریش خویش را

عشق را در پیچش خود یار نیست
محرمش در ده یکی دیار نیست

نیست از عاشق کسی دیوانه تر
عقل از سودای او کور ست و کر

زآنک این دیوانگی عام نیست
طب را ارشاد این احکام نیست

گر طبیبی را رسد زین گون جنون
دفتر طب را فرو شوید به خون

طب جملهٔ عقل ها منقوش اوست
روی جمله دلبر ان روپوش اوست

روی در روی خود آر ای عشق کیش
نیست ای مفتون ترا جز خویش خویش

قبله از دل ساخت آمد در دعا
لیس للانسان الا ما سعی

پیش از آن کاو پاسخی بشنیده بود
سال ها اندر دعا پیچیده بود

بی اجابت بر دعا ها می تنید
از کرم لبیک پنهان می شنید

چونک بی دف رقص می کرد آن علیل
ز اعتماد جود خلاق جلیل

سوی او نه هاتف و نه پیک بود
گوش اومید ش پر از لبیک بود

بی زبان می گفت اومید ش تعال
از دلش می روفت آن دعوت ملال

آن کبوتر را که بام آموخته ست
تو مخوان می رانش کان پر دوخته ست

ای ضیاء الحق حسام الدین برانش
کز ملاقات تو بر رسته ست جانش

گر برانی مرغ جانش از گزاف
هم به گرد بام تو آرد طواف

چینه و نقلش همه بر بام تست
پر زنان بر اوج مست دام تست

گر دمی منکر شود دزدانه روح
در ادای شکرت ای فتح و فتوح

شحنهٔ عشق مکرر کینه اش
تشت آتش می نهد بر سینه اش

که بیا سوی مه و بگذر ز گرد
شاه عشقت خواند زوتر باز گرد

گرد این بام و کبوتر خانه من
چون کبوتر پر زنم مستانه من

جبرئیل عشقم و سدره م توی
من سقیمم عیسی مریم توی

جوش ده آن بحر گوهر بار را
خوش بپرس امروز این بیمار را

چون تو آن او شدی بحر آن اوست
گرچه این دم نوبت بحران اوست

این خود آن ناله ست کاو کرد آشکار
آنچ پنهان ست یا رب زینهار

دو دهان داریم گویا هم چو نی
یک دهان پنهان ست در لب های وی

یک دهان نالان شده سوی شما
های هویی در فکنده در هوا

لیک داند هر که او را منظر ست
که فغان این سری هم زان سرست

دمدمهٔ این نای از دم های اوست
های هوی روح از هیهای اوست

گر نبودی با لبش نی را سمر
نی جهان را پر نکردی از شکر

با کی خفتی وز چه پهلو خاستی
که چنین پر جوش چون دریا ستی

یا ابیت عند ربی خواندی
در دل دریای آتش راندی

نعرهٔ یا نار کونی باردا
عصمت جان تو گشت ای مقتدا

ای ضیاء الحق حسام دین و دل
کی توان اندود خورشید ی به گل

قصد کرده ستند این گل پاره ها
که بپوشانند خورشید ترا

در دل که لعل ها دلال تست
باغها از خنده مالامال تست

محرم مردی ت را کو رستمی ؟
تا ز صد خرمن یکی جو گفتمی

چون بخواهم کز سرت آهی کنم
چون علی سر را فرو چاهی کنم

چونک اخوان را دل کینه ورست
یوسفم را قعر چه اولی ترست

مست گشتم خویش بر غوغا زنم
چه چه باشد خیمه بر صحرا زنم

بر کف من نه شراب آتشین
وانگه آن کر و فر مستانه بین

منتظر گو باش بی گنج آن فقیر
زآنک ما غرقیم این دم در عصیر

از خدا خواه ای فقیر این دم پناه
از من غرقه شده یاری مخواه

که مرا پروای آن اسناد نیست
از خود و از ریش خویشم یاد نیست

باد سبلت کی بگنجد و آب رو
در شرابی که نگنجد تار مو

در ده ای ساقی یکی رطلی گران
خواجه را از ریش و سبلت وا رهان

نخوت ش بر ما سبالی می زند
لیک ریش از رشک ما بر می کند

مات او و مات او و مات او
که همی دانیم تزویر ات او

از پس صد سال آنچ آید ازو
پیر می بیند معین مو به مو

اندر آیینه چه بیند مرد عام
که نبیند پیر اندر خشت خام

آنچ لحیانی به خانهٔ خود ندید
هست بر کوسه یکایک آن پدید

رو به دریایی که ماهی زاده ای
هم چو خس در ریش چون افتاده ای

خس نه ای دور از تو رشک گوهری
در میان موج و بحر اولی تری

بحر وحدانی ست جفت و زوج نیست
گوهر و ماهیش غیر موج نیست

ای محال و ای محال اشراک او
دور از آن دریا و موج پاک او

نیست اندر بحر شرک و پیچ پیچ
لیک با احول چه گویم هیچ هیچ

چونک جفت احولانیم ای شمن
لازم آید مشرکانه دم زدن

آن یکیی زان سوی وصف ست و حال
جز دوی ناید به میدان مقال

یا چو احول این دوی را نوش کن
یا دهان بردوز و خوش خاموش کن

یا به نوبت گه سکوت و گه کلام
احولانه طبل می زن والسلام

چون ببینی محرمی گو سر جان
گل ببینی نعره زن چون بلبلان

چون ببینی مشک پر مکر و مجاز
لب ببند و خویشتن را خنب ساز

دشمن آبست پیش او مجنب
ورنه سنگ جهل او بشکست خنب

با سیاست های جاهل صبر کن
خوش مدارا کن به عقل من لدن

صبر با نا اهل اهلان را جلی ست
صبر صافی می کند هر جا دلی ست

آتش نمرود ابراهیم را
صفوت آیینه آمد در جلا

جور کفر نوحیان و صبر نوح
نوح را شد صیقل مرآت روح

English translation

When the king surrendered that chaotic treasure map To that afflicted one, He became safe from enemies and from their sting; He went away, immersed in his own melancholic thoughts. He made a companion of sorrowful love; A dog licks its own wound. Love has no companion in its twisting path; In the whole village, there is not a single intimate friend for it. There is no one madder than the lover; Reason is blind and deaf from his passion. Because this madness is not common, Medicine has no guidance for these rules. If such madness reaches a physician, He will wash the book of medicine in blood. The medicine of all intellects is designed by Him; The face of all beloveds is His veil. Turn your face to your own self, O follower of love! O infatuated one, you have no one but your own self. He made a Qibla of his heart and entered into prayer: 'Man has nothing but what he strives for.' Before he had heard any response, He had been wrapped in prayer for years. Without an answer, he persisted in prayers; By grace, he kept hearing a hidden 'Here I am!' (Labbayk). Since that sick man was dancing without a tambourine, From reliance on the bounty of the Glorious Creator, There was neither a caller nor a messenger coming towards him, Yet the ear of his hope was full of 'Labbayk.' His hope was saying 'Come!' without a tongue; That calling was sweeping away weariness from his heart. That pigeon which has grown accustomed to the roof, Do not call it, drive it away, for its feathers are sewn to it. O Ziya al-Haqq (Light of Truth) Husam al-Din, drive it away! For by meeting you, its soul has grown. Even if you idly drive away the bird of his soul, It will still circle around your roof. Its bait and dessert are all on your roof; Fluttering its wings at the summit, it is drunk with your snare. If the spirit becomes secretly ungrateful for a moment, In paying thanks to you, O victory and source of conquests! The watchman of love, repeating his vengeance, Places a pan of fire upon its chest. Saying, 'Come towards the moon and pass beyond the dust; The King of love has called you, return sooner!' Around this roof and my pigeon-house, I will flutter my wings like a drunken pigeon. I am the Gabriel of love and you are my Lote-tree (Sidra); I am sick and you are my Jesus, son of Mary. Make that pearl-bearing ocean boil; Sweetly inquire after this sick one today! Since you became his, the ocean is his, Even though at this moment it is his time of crisis. This is indeed the groaning that he made evident; As for what is hidden, O Lord, mercy! We have two mouths speaking like a reed-flute; One mouth is hidden in His lips. One mouth is wailing towards you, Casting a tumult into the air. But whoever has insight knows That the cry of this end is also from that end. The sound of this flute is from His breaths; The clamor of the spirit is from His clamor. If the flute had no discourse with His lip, The flute would not have filled the world with sugar. With whom did you sleep and from what side did you rise, That you are so full of boiling like the sea? You recited 'I spend the night with my Lord' And drove into the heart of the sea of fire. The cry 'O fire, be cool' Became the protection of your soul, O leader! O Light of Truth, Husam of religion and heart! How can one plaster over the sun with clay? These clods of clay have intended To cover up your sun. In the heart of the mountain, the rubies are your brokers; The gardens are filled to the brim with your laughter. Where is a Rustam to be intimate with your manliness? So that I could tell one barley-corn out of a hundred harvests. When I want to heave a sigh concerning your secret, Like Ali, I thrust my head into a well. Since the brothers have a vindictive heart, The bottom of the well is better for my Joseph. I became drunk; I will throw myself into the tumult; What is a well? I will pitch my tent on the plain. Put the fiery wine in my palm, And then behold that drunken pomp and splendor! Tell that poor man to remain expectant without the treasure, For at this moment we are drowned in the juice (wine). O poor man, seek refuge with God at this moment! Do not ask for help from me, who am drowned. For I do not care about those documents; I have no memory of myself or of my own beard. How can the pride of a mustache and honor fit Into a wine where not even a hair can fit? Give, O Cupbearer, a heavy goblet! Deliver the master from his beard and mustache! His arrogance pulls his mustache at us, But he tears his beard out of envy of us. Checkmate to him, and checkmate, and checkmate! For we know his tricks. That which will come from him after a hundred years, The spiritual guide (Pir) sees clearly, hair by hair. What does the common man see in the mirror That the Pir does not see in a raw unbaked brick? What the heavily bearded man did not see in his own house Is entirely visible to the beardless man. Go to the sea, for you are born a fish! Why have you fallen like straw in a beard? You are not straw—far be it from you! You are the envy of the pearl. You are more suited for the midst of waves and the sea. The sea of unity has no pair or mate; Its pearl and its fish are nothing other than the wave. Oh, impossible, impossible is partnership with Him! Far from that sea and its pure wave. There is no polytheism or twisting in the sea, But what can I say to the cross-eyed (who sees double)? Nothing, nothing. Since we are companions to the cross-eyed, O idolater, It becomes necessary to speak like a polytheist. That Oneness is beyond description and state; Nothing but duality enters the arena of speech. Either swallow this duality like the cross-eyed, Or sew up your mouth and remain pleasantly silent. Or by turns, sometimes silence and sometimes speech, Beat the drum like the cross-eyed, and that is all. When you see an intimate, tell the secret of the soul; When you see a rose, cry out like the nightingales! When you see a water-skin full of deceit and illusion, Close your lips and make yourself a jar! He is an enemy of water, do not move before him, Or else the stone of his ignorance will break the jar. Be patient with the harshness of the ignorant; Gently tolerate them with God-given intellect. Patience with the unworthy polishes the worthy; Patience purifies wherever there is a heart. Nimrod's fire, for Abraham, Became the mirror's purity in its polish. The cruelty of the disbelief of Noah's people and the patience of Noah Became the polish of the mirror of the spirit for Noah.

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Updated 2026-06-21

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