1Cademy - بخش ۷ - ذکر حجّت قرآن / Section 7

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حدیقة الحقیقه و شریعة الطریقه / Hadiqat al-Haqiqah (The Walled Garden of Truth)

Poem

بخش ۷ - ذکر حجّت قرآن / Section 7 - Mention of the Proof of the Quran

Original content

باش تا روز عرض بر یزدان
گلهٔ جان تو کند قرآن

گوید این ماحل مصدق تو
چند باطل کشید بر حق تو

گوید ای کردگار می دانی
آشکارا چنانکه پنهانی

شب و روزم بخواند با فریاد
داد یک حرف من به صدق نداد

حق نحو و معانی و اعراب
زو ندیدم به صدق در محراب

حنجره در سرود نیک آید
جامهٔ غم کبود نیک آید

به جز از گفت و گوی دمدمه ای
نیست گوشی نصیب زمزمه ای

گه بخواندی مرا به راه مجاز
خیره بگشاده چون خران آواز

که بسی لاف زد به دعوی ما
پس ندانست قدر معنی ما

سوی میدان خاص اسب بتاخت
روی ما از نقاب ما نشناخت

بر سر کوی ما ز زشت و نکو
سگی آمد کسی نیامد ازو

عقل و جان را به حکم من نسپرد
سوی رای و هوای خویشم برد

گه به تیغ هوا بخست مرا
گاه بر دام نفس بست مرا

گه به سوی شراب راند مرا
گه به راه سرود خواند مرا

گه شکستی چوچوب را سکنه
سر و روی حروفم از شکنه

گه چو قوال کرده از نغمه
متفرق حروفم از زخمه

ای مدبر ز مدبری چونین
خواهم انصاف تو به یوم الدین

در سرای مجاز از سر ناز
گه به بازار و گه به بانگ نماز

جلوه کردی برای اعجازی
گه به حرفی و گه به آوازی

English translation

Wait until the Day of Display before God, When the Quran shall lodge a complaint against your soul. It will say: 'This deceptive one who confirmed me, How much falsehood did he cast upon Your truth?' It will say: 'O Creator, You know, As clearly in the open as in the secret, Night and day he called upon me with a loud cry, Yet did not give a single letter of mine with sincerity. The rights of grammar, meaning, and syntax— I saw none from him with sincerity in the prayer niche. The throat is well-suited for a fine song; The garment of mourning is well-suited in blue. Except for the chatter of some clamor, No ear has received any share of the whisper. At times he read me in the way of metaphor, Braying foolishly like donkeys. For he boasted much of our claim, Yet knew not the value of our meaning. Toward the field of the elite he galloped his horse, But did not recognize our face from our veil. At the corner of our street, whether foul or fair, A dog came by, but no human came from him. He did not surrender intellect and soul to my command; He dragged me toward his own opinion and whim. At times he wounded me with the sword of passion; At times he bound me in the snare of the self. At times he drove me toward wine; At times he called me to the path of song. Sometimes you broke me like wood— The head and face of my letters, from the splintering. Sometimes, like a musician performing a melody, My letters were scattered by the plectrum. O Disposer, from such a 'disposer' as this, I seek Your justice on the Day of Judgment. In the house of metaphor, out of vanity, Sometimes in the market and sometimes at the call to prayer, You made a display for the sake of a miracle, Sometimes with a letter and sometimes with a voice.'

Updated 2026-07-02

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