1Cademy - بخش ۷ - در خطاب زمین بوس حضرتی که نقش خاتم نبوتش خاتم النبیین است و طراز خلعت رسالتش سیدالمرسلین صلی الله علیه و آله و سلم / Section 7 - In addressing the ground-kissing of His Eminence whose seal of prophethood is the Seal of the Prophets, and the embroidery of his robe of apostleship is the Master of the Messengers, may God bless him and his family and grant them peace

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Haft Awrang

Poem

بخش ۷ - در خطاب زمین بوس حضرتی که نقش خاتم نبوتش خاتم النبیین است و طراز خلعت رسالتش سیدالمرسلین صلی الله علیه و آله و سلم / Section 7 - In addressing the ground-kissing of His Eminence whose seal of prophethood is the Seal of the Prophets, and the embroidery of his robe of apostleship is the Master of the Messengers, may God bless him and his family and grant them peace

Original content

ای دل و دیده خاک نعلینت
رشته جان شراک نعلینت

شد ادیم رخم به خون جگری
تا چو نعلین زیر پا سپری

بیدلی کرد در وفای تو سود
که چو نعلین رخ به پای تو سود

خاک نعلینت ار نه دسترس است
گردی از نعل مرکب تو بس است

در رهت خاکم از سر فاقه
گه فرس ران بر آن و گه ناقه

روی مجنون بر آن زمین اولی
که بود پای ناقه لیلی

ای خوش آن سرزمین که منزل توست
یا بر آنجا گذار محمل توست

هر کجا بگذری چو باد بهار
ندمد جز شمیم مشک تتار

ارض بطحا که زیر پای تو بود
خاک نعلین عرش سای تو بود

ریگش آید به چشم اهل نظر
خوشتر از خرد کرده لعل و گهر

می زند سنگریزه رودش
طعنه بر بحر و در منضودش

خاک یثرت که با گلت آمیخت
آبروی زمین روضه بریخت

هر گیاهی کز آن زمین خیزد
نافه در جیب یاسمین ریزد

خس و خاری که روید از دمنش
ننگ آید ز سوری و سمنش

ساحت روضه ات که کعبه نماست
حرم عصمت و حریم صفاست

کی بود با دل ز غم رسته
جامی احرام آن حرم بسته

برده با چهره غبار آلود
سوی آن روضه شریف سجود

کی بود ز آب چشم و خون جگر
شسته رخساره ها ز گرد سفر

پیش آن بارگاه نورانی
سوده بر خاک راه پیشانی

کی بود کی میان منبر و قبر
کرده صد چاک جیب خرقه صبر

گرد آن منزل بهشت نشان
رفته در دیده سرشک فشان

کی بود کز برای روزبهی
خاطر پر امید و دست تهی

رو در آن قبله گاه حشمت و ناز
پیش سینه نهاده دست نیاز

دمبدم در معنیی سفته
خالی از لاف و دعویی گفته

یا نبی الله السلام علیک
انما الفوز و الفلاح لدیک

به سلام آمدم جوابم بده
مرهمی بر دل خرابم نه

بس بود جاه و احترام مرا
یک علیک از تو صد سلام مرا

خواهم از شوق دستبوس تو مرد
دست بیرون کن از یمانی برد

مهر روی تو هوش برد از من
بنما روی خود ز برد یمن

چون تویی دیده ور به باغ بلاغ
همچو نرگس ز سرمه ما زاغ

سویم افکن ز مرحمت نظری
باز کن بر رخم ز لطف دری

مهر بگشا ز حقه یاقوت
روح را کام بخش و دل را قوت

زاری من شنو تکلم کن
گریه من نگر تبسم کن

تلخ شد کام من ز بخت نژند
ساز شیرین ز لعل شکر خند

لب بجنبان پی شفاعت من
منگر در گناه و طاعت من

گر نرفتم طریق سنت تو
هستم از عاصیان امت تو

مانده ام زیر بار عصیان پست
افتم از پای اگر نگیری دست

رحم کن بر من و فقیری من
دست ده بهر دستگیری من

خود به دست تو کی رسد دستم
اینقدر بس که در رهت پستم

پست بودن به راه تو خوشتر
کز بلندی به عرش سودن سر

عرش چون خاک شد به راه تو پست
تا رسیدش به پایبوس تو دست

فیض جانها ز جان پاک تو باد
عرش و مادون عرش خاک تو باد

English translation

O heart and eye, dust of your sandals The thread of the soul is the strap of your sandals The leather of my face was stained with liver's blood So that like sandals it would be trodden underfoot He profited in your fidelity who lost his heart And who like sandals rubbed his face on your foot If the dust of your sandals is out of reach A speck of dust from the shoe of your steed is enough In your path, I am dust from extreme poverty Sometimes drive a horse over it, and sometimes a camel Majnun's face is better placed on that ground Where the foot of Layla's camel trod O happy is that land which is your dwelling Or where your litter passes by Wherever you pass like the spring breeze Nothing breathes but the scent of Tatar musk The land of Batha that was beneath your foot Was the dust of your throne-rubbing sandals Its sand appears to the eye of the people of insight More pleasant than crushed rubies and pearls The pebbles of its riverbed taunt The sea and its arranged pearls The dust of Yathrib that mixed with your clay Poured away the honor of the earth of Paradise Every plant that rises from that ground Pours musk-pods into the collar of the jasmine The straw and thorn that grow from its meadow Bring shame to its Syrian rose and jasmine The courtyard of your mausoleum, which points to the Kaaba Is the sanctuary of infallibility and the precinct of purity When will it be that with a heart freed from sorrow Jami ties the Ihram of that sanctuary Taking with a dust-covered face Prostration toward that noble shrine When will it be that with the water of the eyes and the blood of the liver Having washed his cheeks from the dust of travel Before that luminous court He rubs his forehead on the dust of the path When will it be, when between the pulpit and the grave Having torn a hundred slits in the collar of the cloak of patience Around that paradise-like dwelling He walks with tear-shedding eyes When will it be that for the sake of better days With a heart full of hope and empty hands Turning his face toward that Qibla of majesty and grace Placing the hands of supplication before his chest Moment by moment stringing the pearl of a meaning Speaking empty of boasting and claim O Prophet of Allah, peace be upon you Verily success and salvation are with you I have come in greeting, give me my answer Place a balm upon my ruined heart Enough for my dignity and respect Is one "upon you" from you for my hundred greetings I will die from the desire of kissing your hand Bring your hand out from the Yemeni cloak The sun of your face took away my consciousness Show your face from the Yemeni cloak Since you are the seer in the garden of communication Like the narcissus from the collyrium of "ma zagha" (the eye did not swerve) Cast a glance of mercy toward me Open a door of grace to my face Open the seal from the ruby casket (mouth) Grant desire to the soul and nourishment to the heart Hear my lamentation, speak Look at my weeping, smile My palate has become bitter from a miserable fate Make it sweet with the sugar-smiling ruby Move your lips for my intercession Do not look at my sin and obedience If I did not walk the path of your Sunnah I am still of the sinners of your Ummah I have remained low under the load of sin I will fall from my feet if you do not take my hand Have mercy on me and my poverty Give a hand for my assistance When will my hand ever reach your hand itself? This much is enough, that I am lowly in your path Being lowly in your path is better Than rubbing the head against the Throne from highness The Throne became lowly like dust in your path Until its hand reached to kiss your feet May the grace of souls be from your pure soul May the Throne and what is below the Throne be your dust

Updated 2026-07-06

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