1Cademy - بخش ۳ - تمثیل در نفس جهان فانی و قصّهٔ لقمان حکیم / Section 3 - The Allegory Regarding the Nature of the Mortal World and the Tale of Luqman the Wise

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

Poem

بخش ۳ - تمثیل در نفس جهان فانی و قصّهٔ لقمان حکیم / Section 3 - The Allegory Regarding the Nature of the Mortal World and the Tale of Luqman the Wise

Original content

داشت لقمان یکی کریجی تنگ
چو گلوگاه نای و سینهٔ چنگ

شب در او در به رنج و تاب بدی
روز در پیش آفتاب بدی

روز نیمی به آفتاب اندر
همه شب زو به رنج و تاب اندر

بلفضولی سؤال کرد از وی
چیست این خانه شش بدست و سه پی

همه عالم سرای و بستانست
این کریجت بتر ز زندانست

در جهان فراخ با نزهت
چکنی این کریج پر وحشت

عالمی پر ز نزهت و خوشی
رنج این تنگنای از چه کشی

با دم سرد و چشم گریان پیر
گفت هذا لمن یموت کثیر

در رباطی مقام و من گذری
بر سر پل سرای و من سفری

چه کنم خانهٔ گل آبادان
دل من اینما تکونوا خوان

چو درآید اجل چه بنده چه شاه
وقت چون در رسد چه بام چه چاه

گربهٔ روده چون زنم شانه
بر ره سیل چون کنم خانه

آهن سرد چند کوبم من
خانه ویران و چند روبم من

پیش صرصر چراغ چه افروزم
پوستین پیش شیر چون دوزم

خلق را زین جهان پر شر و شور
چار دیوار گور بهتر گور

هلک المثقلون بخوانده و پس
خانه و جای سازم اینت هوس

چکنم جفت و زاده و بنیاد
مونس من نجاالمخفون باد

خانه کز راه رنج و حیله بود
همچو زندان کرم پیله بود

که چو قز بود در دلش پنهان
گشت هم قز تن ورا زندان

خانه اینجا که بهر قوت کنند
مور و زنبور و عنکبوت کنند

قوت عیسی چو ز آسمان سازند
هم بدانجاش خانه پردازند

بر فلک زان مسیح سربفراشت
که بر این خاک توده خانه نداشت

چکند روح پاک خانهٔ ریح
فلک پنجم است بام مسیح

خر دجال چون ز جو خالیست
علم جور او از آن عالیست

خاک و آب و هوا و آتش عهد
کی نگهدارد ار تو سازی جهد

مرگ را چون شگرف و چالاکست
سوی ناپاک و پاک ره پاکست

نه تو مردی و مرگ بی زورست
شیر او شیر و گور او گورست

زانکه اینجات یک دو مه محلست
نه بتست آن به مدت اجلست

به اجل باز بسته اند این کار
بی اجل نیست کار را مقدار

English translation

Luqman had a narrow little hut, Like the throat of a reed flute and the chest of a harp. At night, inside it, he was in pain and torment, By day, he was out in the sun. Half the day in the sun, All night in pain and torment from it. A busybody asked him: 'What is this house, six spans and three paces? The whole world is a palace and a garden; This hut of yours is worse than a prison. In the wide and pleasant world, What are you doing in this terrifying hut? A world full of pleasantness and joy, Why do you endure the pain of this narrow place?' With a cold sigh and weeping eyes, the old man Said, 'This is even too much for one who will die. Dwelling in a caravanserai while I am just passing through, A house on a bridge, and I am on a journey. Why should I build up a house of mud? My heart recites 'Wherever you may be...'. When death comes, what does it matter if one is slave or king? When the time arrives, what is a roof or a well? Why should I comb the intestines of a cat? Why should I build a house on the path of a flood? How long should I beat cold iron? The house is ruined, how long should I sweep it? Why should I light a lamp in the face of a fierce wind? Why should I sew a fur coat in front of a lion? For people in this world full of evil and tumult, The four walls of the grave are better, the grave. Having read 'Perished are the heavily burdened', then Shall I build a house and a place? What an illusion! What should I do with a mate, offspring, and foundation? May my companion be 'Saved are the light-burdened'. A house built through suffering and deceit Is like the prison of a silkworm. Since the silk is hidden in its heart, That very silk becomes a prison for its body. Building a house here for sustenance Is what the ant, the bee, and the spider do. Since Jesus's sustenance is prepared from heaven, They also build his house there. The Messiah raised his head to the sky for this reason: That he had no house on this mound of dirt. What does the pure spirit do with a house of wind? The fifth heaven is the roof of the Messiah. Since the Antichrist's donkey is devoid of barley, His banner of tyranny is thereby raised high. Earth, water, air, and fire—their covenant, When do they keep it, even if you make an effort? Because death is magnificent and swift, Its path to the impure and the pure is clear. Neither are you capable of fighting it, nor is death powerless; Its lion is a lion, and its grave is a grave. For your place here is but a month or two; It depends on the appointed time. They have tied this matter to the appointed time of death; Without death, actions have no measure.'

Updated 2026-07-03

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