1Cademy - بخش ۷۲ - شکایت از فلک پر نکایت که اژدهاوار گرد عالمیان حلقه کرده و همه را به دایره تصرف خود درآورده بر یکی زخم زند و بر دیگری زهر افکند نه هیچ از دست رفته را با وی دست ستیز و نه هیچ از پای افتاده را از وی پای گریز / Section 72 - Complaint Against the Heaven Full of Malice, Which Like a Dragon Has Coiled Around the People of the World and Brought Everyone Within the Circle of Its Power: It Wounds One and Casts Poison upon Another; Neither Can Anyone Who Has Lost Their Hands Struggle Against It, n

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Haft Awrang

Poem

بخش ۷۲ - شکایت از فلک پر نکایت که اژدهاوار گرد عالمیان حلقه کرده و همه را به دایره تصرف خود درآورده بر یکی زخم زند و بر دیگری زهر افکند نه هیچ از دست رفته را با وی دست ستیز و نه هیچ از پای افتاده را از وی پای گریز / Section 72 - Complaint Against the Heaven Full of Malice, Which Like a Dragon Has Coiled Around the People of the World and Brought Everyone Within the Circle of Its Power: It Wounds One and Casts Poison upon Another; Neither Can Anyone Who Has Lost Their Hands Struggle Against It, n

Original content

فلک بر خویش پیچان اژدهاییست
پی آزار ما زور آزماییست

گرفتاریم در پیچ و خم او
رهیدن چون توانیم از دم او

نبینی کس کزو زخمی نخورده
ز صد کس بر یکی رحمی نکرده

ز ظلمش هیچ کس سالم نجسته ست
کدامین سینه کان ظالم نخسته ست

به هر اختر کزو روشن چراغیست
نهاده بر دل آزاده داغیست

هزاران داغ هست و مرهمی نی
وز این بی مرهمی هیچش غمی نی

بود پیدا در او شب های دیجور
هزاران روزن اندر عالم نور

چه حاصل زان چو نوری درنیفتد
به خاطرها سروری درنیفتد

چو شیران روز دور است از دو رنگی
ولی شب ها کند با ما پلنگی

به جز آزار ما را زو چه رنگ است
که با ما روز شیر و شب پلنگ است

سزد کز عیش تنگ خود بنالیم
که با شیر و پلنگ اندر جوالیم

تو را با هر که رو در آشناییست
قرار کارت آخر بر جداییست

بسی گردش نمود این سبز طارم
بسی تابش مه و خورشید و انجم

که تا با هم طبایع رام گشتند
شکار مرغ جان را دام گشتند

هنوز این مرغ تا فرخ سرانجام
نچیده دانه کامی زاین دام

طبایع بگسلند از یکدگر بند
کند هر یک به اصل خویش پیوند

بماند مرغ دور از آشیانه
دلی پر خون ز فقد آب و دانه

مبین دور سپهر و مهر گرمش
که هیچ از کین گذاری نیست شرمش

به مهرش دل کسی چون صبح کم بست
که در خون چون شفق هر شام ننشست

ز سوزش کس دمی بی غم نیفتاد
کزان در عمرها ماتم نیفتاد

به بستان پای نه فصل بهاران
تماشا کن که گرد جویباران

چرا کرده ست غنچه پیرهن چاک
به خواری سبزه چون افتاده بر خاک

چرا دراعه گل پاره پاره ست
دهان پر شعله و دل پر شراره ست

که افکنده ز پا سرو روان را
که کرده غرقه در خون ارغوان را

چرا سنبل پریشانست و درهم
چرا تر چشم نرگس ز اشک شبنم

بنفشه در کبودی سوگواریست
به خون آغشته لاله داغداریست

صنوبر با دلی گشته به صد شاخ
تنی از تیغ خور سوراخ سوراخ

ز گل پر داغ پشت و روی گلبن
سمن در کندن رخ تیز ناخن

درختان از صبا در رقص اندوه
غم جانکاه مرغان کوه بر کوه

بود کو کو زنان قمری ز هر سو
که یعنی در جهان آسودگی کو

هزاران با هزاران نغمه درد
که خوش آن کو غم این باغ کم خورد

مطوق فاخته گردن به چنبر
کزین چنبر کسی نارد برون سر

جهان را دیدی و فصل بهارش
بیا و از خزان گیر اعتبارش

ببین دم سردی باد خزان را
ببین رخ زردی برگ رزان را

دم آن سرد از درد فراق است
که یار از یار و جفت از جفت طاق است

رخ این زرد از اندوه دوریست
که دوری بعد نزدکی ضروریست

برفته آب و رنگ از شاهد باغ
سیه پوش آمده در ماتمش زاغ

نموده عور هر شاخی به باغی
دم طاووس را پای کلاغی

ز سر چادر فتاده نسترن را
ز خیمه رفته پوشش نارون را

انار آن تاج تارک ناربن را
که می بخشد نوی باغ کهن را

درونش را چو وقت خنده بینی
به صد پر کاله خون آگنده بینی

به آن خوبان بستان را شمامه
ز رعنایی معصفر کرده جامه

نشسته بر رخ زردش غباریست
همانا مانده دور از روی یاریست

ز روی سختی یخ در آب منهل
شده باد از زره سازی معطل

چنار ار دستبرد برد دیدی
به باغ آوازه سرما شنیدی

نکردی دست خود را تابه اکنون
ز بیم از آستین شاخ بیرون

بهار آنست عالم را خزان این
ازین هست آن غم افزاتر وز آن این

درین غمخانه بی غم چون زید کس
دل پژمرده خرم چون زید کس

به گیتی در نشان خرمی نیست
وگر باشد نصیب آدمی نیست

نباشد سر پر از ناز حبیبی
نصیب آدمی جز بی نصیبی

دل از اندیشه شادی تهی کن
دماغ از فکر آزادی تهی کن

به داغ نامرادی شاد می باش
به غل بندگی آزاد می باش

ز هر چیزی که افتد دلپسندت
کند خاطر به مهر خویش بندت

به صد حسرت بریدن خواهی آخر
غم هجرش کشیدن خواهی آخر

گشا دستی و از پا بند بگسل
وز این بی حاصلان پیوند بگسل

وگر تو نگسلی آن کس که بسته ست
پی بگسستنش بگشاده دست است

تو خفته غافل و او ایستاده
یکایک می ستاند آنچه داده

در آورد از درشتی پا به سنگت
به میدان روایی ساخت لنگت

عصاگیری به کف گاه روایی
که لنگی را به رهواری نمایی

چو صرصر تازه شاخی را ز بن کند
به چوب خشک نتوان کرد پیوند

به زورت پنجه طاقت زبون کرد
ز دستت نقد گیرایی برون کرد

بری دستی سوی هر کار پیوست
ولی کاریت بر می ناید از دست

چو رفت از دست بیرون زور پنجه
مکن خود را به زور پنجه رنجه

ز چشمت برد نقد روشنایی
تو از بی بینشی سرمه چه سایی

چو در بینش تو را اینست سیرت
مکش سرمه مگر چشم بصیرت

یکی چشمانت در کوری و تنگی
چه سازی چار از چشم فرنگی

ز سیمین سین که میمت را حلی بود
چو لب عقد شمارش لام و بی بود

در آن عقدت چنان کسری فتاده
که کس را نیست زان کسری زیاده

ز نادانی گه نطق و خموشی
کنی آن را ز لب ها پرده پوشی

بدین آیین ز بس سختی و سستی
فتاده صد شکستت در درستی

تو بینی هر شکستی را زجایی
به هر جا پیش گیری ماجرایی

به هر چه از تن شود کم یا ز جانت
به اسباب جهان افتد گمانت

ز طبعت هرگز این معنی نزاده ست
که آن کس می برد آن را که داده ست

جهان را کرده ای بر خویشتن تنگ
نداری در جهان دیگر آهنگ

نیی واقف که دیگر عالمی هست
کز آنجا خاست گر بیش و کمی هست

ازان ترسم که چون مرگ آیدت پیش
نیاری کندن از عالم دل خویش

دل و جانی پر از صد گونه وسواس
روی بیرون ز عالم ناکس الراس

شود چرخت ز جام مرگ ساقی
هنوزت میل این ویرانه باقی

شنیدستم که جالینوس کز دل
نزد نوریش سر در عالم گل

چنین گفته ست چون جانش رسیده
به لب کای کاشکی پیش دو دیده

ز فرج استرم یک فرجه بودی
که عالم زان پس از مرگم نمودی

گشاد دل نبودش چون میسر
فرج را فرجه جست از فرج استر

رهی بگشا در ین کاخ دل افروز
که نزهتگاه فردا بینی امروز

نیاید در دلت هرگز که گاهی
کنی در حال این عالم نگاهی

ادیم خاک کفشی پافشار است
در او صد کوه سختی ریگ وار است

به آن کین کفش را از پا فشانی
وگرنه خسته پا در ره بمانی

بر افکن پرده افلاک از پیش
مباش از پردگی محروم ازین پیش

برون از پرده نامحدود نوریست
کزان هر لمعه خورشید سروریست

در آن لمعه ز هر امید گم شو
به سان ذره در خورشید گم شو

چو گم گشتی در او یابی رهایی
ز درد فرقت و داغ جدایی

English translation

The heavens are a dragon writhing around themselves, Testing their strength in order to torment us. We are trapped within their twists and turns; How can we escape their breath?

You see no one whom they have not wounded; They have shown mercy to scarcely one in a hundred. No one has escaped their tyranny unharmed; What breast has that tyrant not pierced?

For every star whose lamp shines through them, They have set a brand upon a free person's heart. There are thousands of wounds, yet not one balm, And they feel no sorrow for this lack of balm.

In their pitch-dark nights there appear Thousands of windows onto the world of light. What use are they, when no light enters And no joy descends into people's minds?

The lion of day is far removed from duplicity, Yet at night the heavens behave toward us like a leopard. What color have they shown except that of tormenting us, Being a lion by day and a leopard by night?

It is fitting that we lament our straitened pleasure, For we are in a sack together with a lion and a leopard. With everyone toward whom you turn in companionship, The final outcome of your affair is separation.

Many times has this green pavilion revolved; Many times have the moon, sun, and stars shone, Until the elements became reconciled with one another And became a snare for hunting the bird of the soul.

Before this bird reaches its blessed end, It has not yet picked one grain of desire from this snare When the elements break their bonds with one another, And each rejoins its own origin.

The bird remains far from its nest, Its heart filled with blood for lack of water and grain. Do not look upon the sphere's revolution and its warm sun, For it feels no shame in pursuing vengeance.

Few have bound their hearts to its affection like the dawn Without sitting each evening in blood like the twilight. No one has escaped its burning for a moment without grief That has not produced mourning throughout lifetimes.

Set foot in the garden in the season of spring; Look around the flowing streams: Why has the bud torn open its shirt? Why has the grass fallen abjectly upon the earth?

Why is the rose's robe torn to pieces, Its mouth filled with flame and its heart with sparks? Who has felled the stately cypress? Who has drowned the Judas tree in blood?

Why is the hyacinth disheveled and tangled? Why are the narcissus's moist eyes filled with tears of dew? The violet mourns in garments of blue; The tulip, stained with blood, bears the brand of grief.

The pine has become a heart divided into a hundred branches, A body pierced again and again by the sword of the cold. The rosebush's back and face are covered with wounds; The jasmine scratches its cheeks with sharp nails.

The trees dance sorrowfully in the morning breeze; The soul-rending grief of the birds echoes from mountain to mountain. On every side, the turtledove cries, 'Where, where?' As if to ask, 'Where is repose to be found in the world?'

Thousands upon thousands of melodies voice pain; Happy is the one who suffers little grief for this garden. The collared dove has its neck enclosed in a ring, For no one can raise their head outside this ring.

You have seen the world and its season of spring; Come now and take warning from its autumn. Behold the cold breath of the autumn wind; Behold the yellow faces of the vine leaves.

That breath is cold from the pain of separation, For beloved is parted from beloved and mate from mate. These faces are yellow from the grief of distance, For distance must necessarily follow nearness.

The garden's beauty has lost its color and freshness; The crow has come dressed in black to mourn it. Every branch in the garden has been stripped naked, The peacock's tail transformed into a crow's foot.

The wild rose's veil has fallen from its head; The elm's covering has departed from its tent. The pomegranate, that crown upon the pomegranate tree Which grants renewal to the ancient garden—

When you see its inside at the moment it smiles, You find it filled with a hundred blood-soaked rags. That quince, the orchard beauties' fragrant fruit, Had proudly dyed its robe saffron-yellow;

Dust has settled upon its yellow face, Surely because it has remained far from a beloved's face. Because of the ice's hardness upon the watering pool, The wind has ceased its work of making coats of mail.

If the plane tree had witnessed the cold's assault And heard winter's proclamation in the garden, It would not have extended its hand until now From the sleeve of its branch, for fear.

That is the world's spring, and this its autumn; That increases the sorrow of this, and this the sorrow of that. How can anyone live without grief in this house of sorrow? How can a withered heart live joyfully?

There is no sign of happiness in the world, And if there is, it is not humanity's portion. The pampered head of a beloved is not ours; Humanity's only portion is deprivation.

Empty your heart of thoughts of happiness; Empty your mind of the idea of freedom. Be joyful with the brand of frustrated desire; Be free while wearing the shackles of servitude.

Whatever thing becomes pleasing to your heart Binds your mind to itself through affection. In the end, you will sever yourself from it with a hundred regrets, And in the end, you will endure the grief of separation from it.

Open your hand and break the fetter from your foot; Sever your ties with these fruitless things. If you do not break them, the one who bound them Has already opened his hand to tear them apart.

You sleep heedlessly while he stands awake, Taking back, one by one, everything he gave. Harshly, he causes your foot to strike a stone And makes you lame in the field of free movement.

At times, as you walk, you take a cane in hand So that you may disguise lameness as swift movement. When the tempest uproots a fresh branch, It cannot be grafted onto a piece of dry wood.

By force, he subdues the grasp of your strength And removes the ready coin of capability from your hand. You extend your hand to undertake every task, Yet no task can be accomplished by your hand.

When the strength of your grasp has left your hand, Do not torment yourself by forcing your grasp. He takes the ready coin of sight from your eyes; Why apply kohl when you cannot see?

Since this is the course taken by your physical sight, Apply kohl only to the eye of insight. When your two eyes are blind and narrow, Why try to make four of them with Frankish spectacles?

From the silver tooth that adorned your mouth, Your lips once formed a necklace of counted pearls. Such a fracture has now befallen that necklace That no one possesses a greater deficiency than yours.

Out of ignorance, whether speaking or silent, You hide that deficiency behind the curtain of your lips. In this manner, through so much hardness and frailty, A hundred fractures have befallen your soundness.

You attribute every fracture to some particular place And raise a dispute wherever you turn. Whenever something diminishes from your body or soul, Your suspicion falls upon the causes of the world.

This meaning has never arisen from your nature: The one who gave these things is the one who takes them away. You have made the world constricted around yourself And possess no aspiration toward another world.

You do not know that another world exists, From which every increase and decrease has arisen. I fear that when death comes before you, You will be unable to tear your heart from this world.

With heart and soul filled with a hundred kinds of anxiety, You will leave the world with your head cast down. The heavens will become your cupbearer with the goblet of death, While your desire for this ruin still remains.

I have heard that Galen, whose heart Never raised its luminous head beyond the world of clay, Said this when his soul had reached his lips: 'If only, before my two eyes,

There were an opening through my mule's vulva, Through which the world after my death might be revealed.' Since the opening of the heart was unavailable to him, He sought an opening through the opening of a mule.

Open a path within this heart-illuminating palace, So that today you may see tomorrow's pleasure ground. Does it never enter your heart that, sometime, You should look upon the true state of this world?

The leather of the earth is a tight and pressing shoe; Within it, a hundred hard mountains are no more than grains of sand. It is best to cast this shoe from your foot, Or else you will remain footsore upon the road.

Cast aside the curtain of the heavens from before you; Remain no longer veiled and deprived as before. Beyond the curtain lies an unbounded light, Every ray of which is a sun of joy.

Within that ray, lose yourself to every hope; Like a mote, lose yourself within the sun. When you are lost in it, you will find deliverance From the pain of estrangement and the brand of separation.

Updated 2026-07-19

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