1Cademy - بخش ۶۴ - عقد نوزدهم در محبت که میل دل است به مطالعه کمال صفات و انجذاب روح به مشاهده جمال ذات / Section 64 - The Nineteenth Knot on Love, Which is the Hearts Inclination to Contemplate the Perfection of Attributes and the Souls Attraction to Witnessing the Beauty of the Essence

Learn Before

Haft Awrang

Poem

بخش ۶۴ - عقد نوزدهم در محبت که میل دل است به مطالعه کمال صفات و انجذاب روح به مشاهده جمال ذات / Section 64 - The Nineteenth Knot on Love, Which is the Heart's Inclination to Contemplate the Perfection of Attributes and the Soul's Attraction to Witnessing the Beauty of the Essence

Original content

ای دلت شاه سراپرده عشق
جان تو زخم بلا خورده عشق

عشق پروانه شمع ازل است
داغ پروانگیش لم یزل است

بی قراری سپهر از عشق است
گرم رفتاری مهر از عشق است

خاک یک جرعه ازان جام گرفت
که درین دایره آرام گرفت

دل بی عشق تن بی جان است
جان ازو زنده جاویدان است

گوهر زندگی از عشق طلب
گنج پایندگی از عشق طلب

مرده خوان هر که نه از وی زنده ست
نیست دان هر چه نه زو پاینده ست

عشق هر جا بود اکسیرگر است
مس ز خاصیت اکسیر زر است

گونه چون زر عشاق گواست
کانچه شد گفته بود روشن و راست

عشق نی کار جهان ساختن است
بلکه نقد دل و جان باختن است

عشق نی دلق بقا دوختن است
بلکه با داغ فنا سوختن است

عاشق آن دان که ز خود باز رهد
نغمه ترک خودی ساز دهد

نه ره دولت و دنیا سپرد
نه سوی نعمت عقبی نگرد

قبله همت او دوست بود
هر چه جز دوست همه پوست بود

آنچه با دوست دهد پیوندش
شود از فرط محبت بندش

گر دمد خار ز پیرامن او
که سوی دوست کشد دامن او

بود آن خار به از گلزارش
عین راحت شمرد آزارش

وانچه از دوست حجابش گردد
بر رخ وصل نقابش گردد

گرچه خود مردمک دیده بود
پیش چشمش نه پسندیده بود

غم او شادی جانش باشد
نام او ورد زبانش باشد

گر به ذکرش گذراند همه سال
ننشیند به دلش گرد ملال

گوی گردد خم چوگانش را
سر نهد ضربت فرمانش را

نزند دم چو بگوید که بمیر
شود از جام اجل جرعه پذیر

نشود رنجه ز بد خوبی او
نزید جز به رضا جویی او

ترک خشنودی اغیار کند
به رضای دل او کار کند

خیره ماند چو جمالش بیند
لال گردد چو دلالش بیند

باشد از لذت صحبت رقصان
لیک شوقش نپذیرد نقصان

هر دمش حیرت دیگر زاید
هر نفس شوق دگر افزاید

گرچه در بحر بود کشتی وار
عاقبت خشک لب آید به کنار

هر نفس صد نفر از حور و پری
گر کند بر نظرش جلوه گری

کم فتد جانب آنها نظرش
نفرت افزون شود از هر نفرش

غنچه سان باشدش از روز بهی
دل پر از یار و ز اغیار تهی

نه چو نرگس که چو بگشاید چشم
بر همه خار و گلش آید چشم

گل همان در نظرش خار همان
نشود بهر گل از خار رمان

به رخ تازه گل و خشک گیاه
نکند جز به یکی چشم نگاه

نیست این قاعده عشق و وفا
نیست این لازمه صدق و صفا

یا مکن بیهده از عشق خروش
یا نظر زانچه نه معشوق بپوش

English translation

O you whose heart is the king of the pavilion of love, Your soul is struck by the affliction of love. Love is the moth of the eternal candle of pre-eternity, The scar of its moth-like devotion is everlasting. The restlessness of the heavens is from love, The swift warmth of the sun is from love. The earth took a single draught from that cup, Whereby it found rest within this circle. A heart without love is a lifeless body, And the soul is made eternally alive by it. Seek the jewel of life from love, Seek the treasure of permanence from love. Call dead whoever is not alive through it, Deem as nothing whatever does not endure by it. Wherever love is, it acts as an alchemist, Copper turns to gold through the virtue of the elixir. The gold-like pale cheeks of lovers bear witness That what has been said is clear and true. Love is not about building the affairs of the world, But rather losing the coin of heart and soul. Love is not sewing the dervish-robe of survival, But rather burning with the brand of annihilation. Know the lover as one who escapes from self, And plays the melody of self-abandonment. Neither walking the path of wealth and the world, Nor looking toward the blessings of the hereafter. The Qiblah of his aspiration is the Beloved, Whatever is not the Friend is merely a shell. Whatever binds him to the Friend, Becomes his shackle from the excess of love. If a thorn grows around him That pulls his skirt toward the Friend, That thorn would be better than a rose garden to him, He counts its pain as absolute comfort. And whatever becomes a veil between him and the Friend, Acting as a mask over the face of union, Even if it were the very pupil of his eye, It would not be pleasing in his sight. Sorrow for Him is the joy of his soul, His name is the constant litany of his tongue. If he spends the whole year in His remembrance, No dust of weariness will settle on his heart. He becomes a ball to the curve of His polo-stick, Submitting his head to the blow of His command. He breathes not a word when told 'Die!', Accepting a draught from the cup of death. He is not vexed by His harsh temperament, He lives only to seek His pleasure. He abandons the satisfaction of others, Acting only according to the pleasure of His heart. He remains bewildered when he beholds His beauty, And becomes mute when he witnesses His coquetry. He is dancing from the pleasure of companionship, Yet his yearning suffers no decline. Every moment a new wonder is born in him, Every breath a new desire increases. Though he be in the ocean like a ship, In the end, he comes to the shore dry-lipped. If every moment a hundred houris and fairies Should display their beauty before his gaze, He would rarely glance in their direction, His aversion to each of them would only increase. Like a bud on a prosperous day, His heart is full of the Beloved and empty of others. Not like the narcissus which, when it opens its eye, Casts its gaze upon both thorn and rose. The rose and the thorn are the same in his eyes, He does not flee from the thorn for the sake of the rose. Upon the fresh face of the rose and the dry grass, He looks with only one and the same eye. This is not the rule of love and loyalty; This is not the requirement of sincerity and purity: Either do not make a futile clamor about love, Or avert your eyes from all that is not the Beloved.

Updated 2026-07-19

Contributors are:

Who are from:

References