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بخش ۱۷۰ - در بیان آنکه کاملان و عارفان را ملاحظه صورت کثرت از مشاهده سر وحدت باز نمی دارد / Section 170 - Explaining That the Observation of the Form of Multiplicity Does Not Prevent the Perfect and Gnostics from Witnessing the Secret of Unity

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بلکه چون ابر بر سرت بارد
واندر آن تیرگیت نگذارد

تیرگی های تو فرو شوید
وز گل تو گل صفا روید

تیرگی چیست دود هستی تو
خویش بینی و خود پرستی تو

تیره کردی ز دود هستی روی
خیز رو کن در ابر هستی شوی

کیست آن ابر گفته شد زین پیش
ابر خود کیست بل کزان هم بیش

ابر چه بود محیط کز هر سو
ابرها سایلند از کف او

او محیط است و گرد او اصحاب
فیص کش فیض بخش همچو سحاب

خواجه بندگان کارآگاه
قبله مقبلان عبیدالله

روح الله روح اسلافه
طول الله عمر اخلافه

تافت از التماس شاه زمان
از سمرقند سوی مرو عنان

شاه با کبریا و جاه جلال
رفت فرسنگ ها به استقبال

خواجه می راند بارگی به شتاب
چون فرشته که راند ابر خوشاب

شاه و گردنکشان لشکر شاه
که همی سودشان به چرخ کلاه

سر به سر در رکاب او بودند
بر رکابش جبین همی سودند

همه فارغ ز خود پسندی خویش
داده داد نیازمندی خویش

همه آورده از بلندی رای
شرط تعظیم و احترام بجای

جای آن داشت که ز جاه و شکوه
رفتی از جای خویش آنجا کوه

لیک خواجه که کوه آیین بود
بلکه کوه وقار و تمکین بود

با همه بی همه فرس می راند
در معارف گهر همی افشاند

کرد ناگه بدین کمینه ندا
که نباشد فنا جز این معنا

کاین همه های و هو ز پیش و ز پس
نکند ذره ای اثر در کس

وین همه شغل های گوناگون
نبرد مرد را ز خود بیرون

الحق آن شاه مسند ارشاد
خبر از حال خویشتن می داد

حالش این بود بلکه صد چندین
رغم صورت پرست ظاهر بین

من هم از شوق می کنم سخنی
ور نه مدحش چه حد همچو منی

پای تا سر اگر زبان گردم
نتوانم که گرد آن گردم

همچو اویی سزد معرف او
وین زمان در جهان چو اویی کو

قرن ها دور آسمان گردد
تا چو او اختری عیان گردد

عمرها ابر مکرمت بارد
تا چو او گوهری پدید آرد

پی این خواجه گیر کین خواجه
دفتر فقر راست دیباجه

پای او ناسپرده نطع طمع
کرد از کائنات قطع طمع

بلکه کرده ز جود زود نه دیر
دیده حرص طامعان همه سیر

بر درش حلقه حلقه اهل نیاز
حلقه ناکوفته در او باز

چنبر چرخ حلقه در او
حلقه قدسیان ثناگر او

روی او قبله عبادت ها
کوی او کعبه سعادت ها

اهل حاجت چو حاجیان پیوست
زده در حلقه در او دست

برده از جویبار فضلش بهر
چه خراسان چه ماوراء النهر

دست فیاض او به رشح قم
شسته از لوح ملک حرف ستم

صورت کلک او کلید نجات
معنی خط او کفیل حیات

رقعه او به هر که شد واصل
آیتی یافت ز آسمان نازل

باشد آن چون نشان شاه مطاع
مایه دفع ظلم و رفع نزاع

سائلان را مفیض بر و نوال
قابلان را مفید علم و کمال

ساخت حکم شریعت و دین را
طوق گردن همه سلاطین را

کرده صافی به لطف عنف آمیز
عالم از دود دوده چنگیز

سعیش از ذیل دین به رأی درست
داغ تمغا و لوث یرغو شست

آری او هست ابر رحمت بار
ابر را شست و شوی باشد کار

چون ببارد به کوه یا هامون
آرد آلودگی ازان بیرون

هر چه یابد ز جنس قاذورات
کاهل دین را بود ز محظورات

همه را شوید از بلند و مغاک
خاک را سازد از پلیدی پاک

چشمه ها را کند ز آب زلال
در زمین های شوره مالامال

نم او چون رسد به زیر زمین
بر دماند ز گل گل و نسرین

ابر را چون نباشد این اوصاف
نیست او ابر جز بدعوی و لاف

دود خیزد ز خانه یا گلخن
به فلک بر رود که ابرم من

ابلهان را زند سر از خاطر
انه عارض لهم ممطر

اگر او ابر قطره افشان است
قطره اش چون ز دیده پنهان است

چون نشد سبزه ای ازو خرم
چون نشد چشمه ای ازو پر نم

دم آبی به تشنه ای نرساند
شعله آتش کسی ننشاند

غیر ازین نیستش ز ابر اثر
که کند منع پرتو مه و خور

مانع مه شود که در وطنی
بر فروزد چراغ بیوه زنی

گرمی مهر را شود پرده
که فتد بر یتیمی افسرده

آه ازین ابرهای جان فرسای
بلکه زین دودهای ابر نمای

دود در خانه ای که راه کند
در و دیوار آن سیاه کند

در و دیوار تو شده ست سیاه
لیک ازان تیرگی نیی آگاه

اینکه زان تیرگیت نیست خبر
هست بر تیرگی گواه دگر

خیز در پرتو کسی کن جا
کت به آن تیرگی کند بینا

English translation

Rather, when the cloud rains upon your head, And does not leave you in that darkness, It washes away your darknesses, And from your clay, the flower of purity grows.

What is darkness? The smoke of your existence, Your self-conceit and your self-worship. You made your face dark with the smoke of existence, Arise, turn your face to the cloud that washes away existence!

Who is that cloud? It has been said before, Who is the cloud itself, or rather even more? What is the cloud? An ocean from every side, Clouds are beggars from his palm.

He is the ocean, and around him are the companions, Drawing grace and bestowing grace like a rain cloud.

The master of the aware servants, The Qiblah of the favored ones, Ubaydullah.

May Allah sanctify the spirit of his ancestors, May Allah prolong the life of his descendants.

He turned his reins from Samarkand toward Merv, At the request of the king of the age.

The king, with grandeur, status, and glory, Went farsangs to welcome him.

The master rode his steed in haste, Like an angel driving a beautiful cloud.

The king and the high-ranking commanders of the king's army, Whose hats touched the heavens, All of them were at his stirrup, And rubbed their foreheads on his stirrup.

All of them free from their self-conceit, Having paid their dues of neediness.

All of them, with high-mindedness, Fulfilled the conditions of veneration and respect.

It was fitting that from such status and majesty, The mountain there would move from its place.

But the Khwaja, who was mountain-like in custom, Or rather a mountain of dignity and composure,

Rode his steed with all, yet without all, And scattered pearls of mystical knowledge.

Suddenly he called out to this humble one: 'Annihilation is nothing but this meaning:

That all this clamor from front and behind, Does not have an atom of effect on a person.

And all these various occupations, Do not lead a man out of himself.'

In truth, that king of the throne of guidance, Was giving news of his own state.

Such was his state, or rather a hundred times more, To the spite of the form-worshiping, outward-looking observer.

I, too, speak out of yearning, Otherwise, how could one like me be fit to praise him?

Even if I became a tongue from head to toe, I could not encompass his praise.

Only one like him is worthy of defining him, And at this time in the world, where is there one like him?

Centuries must the heavens rotate, For such a star to become manifest.

For lifetimes the cloud of generosity must rain, To produce such a pearl.

Follow the path of this Khwaja, for this Khwaja Is the preface to the book of poverty.

His foot having never stepped on the leather mat of greed, He severed all expectations from creation.

Rather, by his generosity, quickly and not late, He satiated the greedy eyes of all who desired.

At his door, circles upon circles of needy people, The door is open even before the ring is knocked.

The ring of the celestial sphere is the ring of his door, The circle of the heavenly angels is his praiser.

His face is the Qiblah of acts of worship, His lane is the Kaaba of happinesses.

The needy, like pilgrims, continuously Have laid their hands on the ring of his door.

Taking their share from the stream of his grace, Whether in Khorasan or Transoxiana.

His bountiful hand, with a sprinkle of ink, Has washed the word of oppression from the tablet of the kingdom.

The form of his pen is the key to salvation, The meaning of his writing is the guarantor of life.

His letter, to whomever it reached, Was like receiving a verse descended from heaven.

It is like the decree of an obeyed king, The source of repelling oppression and resolving dispute.

Bestowing goodness and bounty on the seekers, Imparting knowledge and perfection to the receptive.

He made the decree of the Sharia and religion A collar around the necks of all monarchs.

He purified, with a severity-mingled kindness, The world from the smoke of Genghis's dynasty.

His endeavor, with a correct judgment, washed away from the skirt of religion The brand of the Tamgha and the pollution of the Yarghu.

Yes, he is a cloud that rains mercy, Washing is indeed the work of the cloud.

When it rains on the mountain or the desert, It extracts pollution from it.

Whatever filth and impurities it finds, Which are forbidden to the people of religion,

All of them it washes from heights and hollows, And cleanses the earth from impurity.

It fills the springs with pure, sweet water, Even in salty, barren lands.

When its moisture reaches under the earth, It causes roses and eglantines to sprout from the mud.

If a cloud does0 not possess these qualities, It is not a cloud except by claim and boast.

Smoke rises from a house or a bath-stove, And goes up to the sky, saying, 'I am a cloud.'

It stirs the minds of the fools: 'This is a cloud bringing us rain.'

If it is indeed a cloud shedding drops, Why is its drop hidden from the eye?

Why did no greenery become fresh from it? Why did no spring become full of moisture from it?

It did not deliver a draft of water to any thirsty soul, Nor did it extinguish anyone's burning flame.

It has no other effect of a cloud, Except that it prevents the light of the moon and the sun.

It blocks the moon from lighting, in a homeland, The lamp of a widow woman.

It becomes a veil to the warmth of the sun, Lest it should fall upon a depressed orphan.

Alas for these soul-exhausting clouds, Or rather, for these cloud-resembling smokes!

When smoke finds its way into a house, It blackens its doors and walls.

Your doors and walls have become blackened, Yet you are unaware of that darkness.

The very fact that you have no news of your darkness, Is another proof of your darkness.

Arise, find a place in the light of someone, Who can make you see that darkness!

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Updated 2026-07-07

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Humanities

Literature

Persian Literature Prerequisite Course

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