1Cademy - بخش ۲ - دست فکرت در سلسله ممکنات زدن و به ذروه توحید واجب برآمدن / Section 2 - Casting the Hand of Thought upon the Chain of Contingent Beings and Ascending to the Summit of the Unity (Tawhid) of the Necessary Being

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Haft Awrang

Poem

بخش ۲ - دست فکرت در سلسله ممکنات زدن و به ذروه توحید واجب برآمدن / Section 2 - Casting the Hand of Thought upon the Chain of Contingent Beings and Ascending to the Summit of the Unity (Tawhid) of the Necessary Being

Original content

هر جا به اثر نظر گمارند
زان پی به در مؤثر آرند

ننهند ز زشته بر خرد بند
گیرند به رشته ریس پیوند

در خط چو قلم فرو نمانند
زان قصه خط نویس خوانند

هر جا بینند رشته تابی
در گردنشان شود طنابی

تا چرخ شوند رهنوردان
وز چرخ به سوی چرخ گردان

هر جا خوانند تازه حرفی
در نامه ز خامه شگرفی

زان حرف به سوی خامه آیند
وز خامه به خامه زن گرایند

از هر چه بود به ملک امکان
در جلوه گری ز جسم تا جان

صد سلسله در میان نهد پای
لیکن همه منتهی به یک جای

از مرکز دایره به هر سوی
باشد خط نصف قطر را روی

کارش به محیط یابد انجام
سیرش به محیط گردد آرام

در دایره کین خطوط پیداست
هر یک به محیط می رود راست

رو زین ره راست گر نپیچی
قدری داری وگر نه هیچی

ای میل به تاب و پیچ کرده
روی از دو جهان به هیچ کرده

یک لحظه ز تاب و پیچ باز آی
هیچند همه ز هیچ باز آی

در گردش این بلند کردار
بین این همه نقش های پرگار

هر نقش اگر چه دلپسند است
آیینه صنع نقشبند است

باید ره دلپسند رفتن
از نقش به نقشبند رفتن

تا چند به نقش بند مانی
آن به که به نقشبند رانی

هر نقش عجب که زیر و بالاست
برهان وجود حق تعالی ست

هر جنس کرم که رهنورد است
از کارگه قدیم فرد است

هر مرغ سخن که در ترانه ست
توحید سرای آن یگانه ست

هر غنچه به شکر او دهانیست
هر برگ گل طری زبانیست

هر لاله که در حریم باغیست
از نور هدایتش چراغیست

از سبزه تر به طرف گلشن
داده خط بندگیش سوسن

با خلعت سبز نیکبختان
رقصان به هوای او درختان

راسخ قدمان باغ دایم
در طاعتش ایستاده قایم

ما را که به تختگاه تعلیم
بنهاده به فرق تاج تکریم

هر تیغ بلا که بر سر آید
گردنکشی از درش نشاید

آن به که ز عنف پاک باشیم
در راه وفاش خاک باشیم

نقد دل و جان به او سپاریم
خود در دو جهان جز او که داریم

آن دم که رسد نفس به آخر
گردد سکرات موت ظاهر

جز دامن فضل او نگیریم
میریم به یاد او چو میریم

نظارگیان این کهن دیر
در مرحله نظر سبک سیر

بالغ نظران آفرینش
روشن بصران تیز بینش

پوشیده درج چرخ دانان
ننوشته درج دهر خوانان

English translation

Wherever they fix their gaze upon an effect, thereby they are led to the door of the Cause. They lay no bond of falsehood upon the intellect; they grasp the connection by the spun thread. In the writing they do not stall like the pen; from that tale they read the writer of the script. Wherever they see a twisting thread, it becomes a rope around their necks. So that the wayfarers become like the wheel, and from the wheel toward the Turner of the wheel. Wherever they read a fresh letter in the book, penned by a wondrous reed, from that letter they come toward the pen, and from the pen they incline to the pen-wielder. From all that exists in the realm of contingency, in their display, from body to soul, a hundred chains set foot between, yet all come to an end at a single place. From the center of the circle to every side, the line is the face of the radius. Its work finds completion at the circumference; its course comes to rest at the circumference. In the circle where these lines appear, each one runs straight to the circumference. Go—if you do not swerve from this straight path, you have some worth; and if not, you are nothing. O you who have inclined to twist and turn, turning your face from both worlds to nothing, come back for one moment from twist and turn; all are nothing—come back from nothing. In the turning of this lofty craft, behold all these figures of the compass. Each figure, though it pleases the heart, is a mirror of the artistry of the Figure-Maker. One must take the heart-pleasing road, going from the figure to the Figure-Maker. How long will you linger at the figure? Better that you ride on toward the Figure-Maker. Every wondrous figure, high and low, is a proof of the existence of God Most High. Every kind of creeping creature that is a wayfarer is singular from the eternal workshop. Every bird of speech that is in song is a singer of the unity of that One. Every bud is a mouth to give Him thanks; every fresh rose-petal is a tongue. Every tulip within the sanctuary of a garden is a lamp from the light of His guidance. From the fresh greenery at the edge of the rose-garden, the lily has given Him its pledge of servitude. In the green robe of the fortunate, the trees are dancing in longing for Him. The firm-footed ones of the eternal garden stand upright, steadfast in His obedience. We, upon whose head at the throne of teaching the crown of honor has been placed— whatever sword of affliction descends upon our head, rebellion against His door is not fitting. Better that we be cleansed of violence, and be dust upon the path of His fidelity. We entrust the coin of heart and soul to Him; whom indeed do we have in both worlds but Him? At the moment when the breath reaches its end, and the agonies of death become manifest, we grasp nothing but the hem of His grace; we die remembering Him when we die. The onlookers of this ancient monastery, swift-moving in the stage of contemplation, the mature-sighted of creation, the clear-eyed of keen vision, those who read the hidden scroll of the heaven-knowers, reciting the unwritten scroll of the readers of time.

Updated 2026-07-20

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