1Cademy - بخش ۵۶ - مقاله هژدهم در اشارت به عشق که شور آن نمک خوان جگرخواران است و جراحت آن راحت جان دلفگاران / Section 56 - The Eighteenth Discourse in Allusion to Love, Whose Passion is the Salt of the Feast of Heart-Devouring Lovers, and Whose Wound is the Comfort of the Afflicted Souls

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Haft Awrang

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بخش ۵۶ - مقاله هژدهم در اشارت به عشق که شور آن نمک خوان جگرخواران است و جراحت آن راحت جان دلفگاران / Section 56 - The Eighteenth Discourse in Allusion to Love, Whose Passion is the Salt of the Feast of Heart-Devouring Lovers, and Whose Wound is the Comfort of the Afflicted Souls

Original content

رونق ایام جوانیست عشق
مایه کام دو جهانیست عشق

میل تحرک به فلک عشق داد
ذوق تجرد به ملک عشق داد

چون گل جان بوی تعشق گرفت
با گل تن رنگ تعلق گرفت

رابطه جان و تن ما ازوست
مردن ما زیستن ما ازوست

علوی و سفلی همه بند ویند
پست شو قدر بلند ویند

مه که به شب نوردهی یافته
پرتوی از مهر بر او تافته

خاک ز گردون نشود تابناک
تا اثر مهر نیفتد به خاک

چون به تن آزاده ز مهر است دل
سنگ سیاهیست در آن تیره گل

هر که نه در آتش عشق است غرق
از دل او تا به صنوبر چه فرق

کار صنوبر چو بود غافلی
از غم عشق، او که و صاحبدلی

زندگی دل به غم عاشقیست
تارک جان بر قدم عاشقیست

تا نشود عشق به دل پردگی
گرمی دل نیست جز افسردگی

ای شده کار تو بد از نیکوان
جفت صد اندوه ز طاق ابروان

حال تو از خال سیاهان تباه
روز تو از مشک عذاران سیاه

رهزن خوابت شده چشمان مست
توبه تو یافته زیشان شکست

هر که شد از سروقدان سرفراز
ساخت سرت پست به خاک نیاز

هر که به رخ نقطه سودا نهاد
داغ غمت بر دل شیدا نهاد

هر که به لب آب حیات آمدت
رخ ز خطش در ظلمات آمدت

گه دم از اندیشه ماهی زنی
ماه فلک بینی و آهی زنی

گه ز گلی خرم و خندان شوی
نغمه سرا بلبل بستان شوی

گه به غزالی دل شیدا دهی
روی چو دیوانه به صحرا نهی

یار هم آغوش به هر باده نوش
تو پس زانوی غم اندر خروش

یار هم آواز به هر حیله ساز
تو ز تب فرقت او در گداز

یار هم آهنگ به هر سینه تنگ
تو ز دلش کوفته بر سینه سنگ

زیرکیی ورز و چنان گیر یار
کش بود اندر دل و جانت قرار

محرم خلوتگه رازت شود
مونس شب های درازت شود

جغد نیی جلوه به هر کاخ چند
مرغ نیی نغمه ز هر شاخ چند

جلوه گر کنگر یک کاخ شو
نغمه زن طارم یک شاخ شو

رو به یکی آر که فرخندگیست
ترک دویی کن که پراکندگیست

میوه مقصود کی آرد درخت
تا نکند پای به یک جای سخت

English translation

Love is the splendor of the days of youth; Love is the source of gratification in both worlds. Love gave the desire for movement to the celestial sphere; Love gave the taste of detachment to the angels. When the clay of the soul caught the scent of love, It took the color of attachment to the clay of the body. Our soul and body's connection is from it; Our dying and our living are from it. The high and the low are all its captives; The lowly and the highly-esteemed are its subjects. The moon, which has obtained the power to give light at night, Has had a ray of the sun shine upon it. The earth does not become luminous from the heavens, Until the impression of the sun falls upon the earth. If the heart in the body is devoid of love, It is merely a black stone in that dark clay. Whoever is not drowned in the fire of love, What difference is there between their heart and a pine cone? Since the nature of the pine is heedlessness, Free from the sorrow of love, how could it be a person of heart? The life of the heart is in the sorrow of loving; The crown of the soul lies at the feet of love. Until love becomes the dweller behind the veil of the heart, The heart's warmth is nothing but melancholy. O you whose state has been ruined by the beautiful ones, Partnered with a hundred sorrows from the arch of their eyebrows! Your condition made miserable by the black beauty-marks of the beloveds, Your day turned as dark as the musk-scented cheeks! Your sleep stolen by their intoxicated eyes, Your repentance broken by them! Whoever among those tall as cypresses stood proud, Has laid your head low on the dust of supplication. Whoever placed a dark beauty-mark on their cheek, Placed the brand of sorrow on your passionate heart. Whoever brought the Water of Life to their lips, Your face turned to darkness from the down of their cheek. Sometimes you sigh from the thought of a moon-faced beauty, You look at the moon of the heavens and heave a sigh. Sometimes you become joyful and smiling because of a rose, Singing like a nightingale of the garden. Sometimes you give your wild heart to a gazelle, Setting your face toward the desert like a madman. The beloved is embracing every wine-drinker, While you sit behind the knee of grief, wailing. The beloved is singing in harmony with every trickster, While you are melting in the fever of separation. The beloved is in tune with every narrow breast, While you, out of grief for their heart, strike a stone against your breast. Practice some wisdom and choose such a beloved, In whom your heart and soul will find rest. Who will become the intimate of your sanctuary of secrets, The companion of your long nights. You are not an owl, why show yourself in every ruin? You are not a common bird, why sing from every branch? Be the ornament of the battlements of a single palace; Be the singer of the dome of a single branch. Turn your face to One, for that is auspiciousness; Abandon duality, for it is dispersion. When will a tree bear the fruit of its purpose, Until it firmly plants its roots in one spot?

Updated 2026-07-07

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Ganjoor

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