1Cademy - بخش ۳۴ - حکایت آن زن که در دیار مصر سی سال در مقام حیرت بر یک جای بماند / Section 34 - The Story of the Woman Who Remained in One Place in Egypt for Thirty Years in the State of Bewilderment

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Haft Awrang

Poem

بخش ۳۴ - حکایت آن زن که در دیار مصر سی سال در مقام حیرت بر یک جای بماند / Section 34 - The Story of the Woman Who Remained in One Place in Egypt for Thirty Years in the State of Bewilderment

Original content

در نواحی مصر شیر زنی
همچو مردان مرد خود شکنی

به چنین دولتی مشرف شد
نقد هستی تمامش از کف شد

شست از آلودگی به کلی دست
نه به شب خفتی و نی به روز نشست

قرب سی سال ماند بر سر پای
که نجنبید چون درخت از جای

خفت مرغش به فرق فارغ بال
گشت مارش به ساق پا خلخال

شست و شو داده موی او باران
شانه کرده صبا چو غمخواران

هیچگه ز آفتاب عالمتاب
سایه بانش نگشته غیر سحاب

لب فرو بسته از شراب و طعام
چون فرشته نه چاشت خورد نه شام

همچو مور و ملخ ز هر طرفی
دام و دد گرد او کشیده صفی

او خوش اندر میانه واله و مست
ایستاده به پا نه نیست و نه هست

چشم او بر جمال شاهد حق
جان به طوفان عشق مستغرق

دل به پروازهای روحانی
گوش بر رازهای پنهانی

زن مگویش که در کشاکش درد
یک سر موی او به از صد مرد

مرد و زن مست نقش پیکر خاک
جان روشن بود از اینها پاک

کردگارا مرا ز من برهان
وز غم مرد و فکر زن برهان

مردیی ده که راد مرد شوم
وز مرید و مراد فرد شوم

غرقه گردم به موج لجه راز
هرگز از خود نشان نیابم باز

English translation

In the regions of Egypt, there was a courageous woman, Who, like heroic men, was a breaker of self. She was honored with such a spiritual fortune That the entirety of her physical existence slipped from her hand. She washed her hands completely of all worldly pollution; She neither slept at night nor sat down by day. For nearly thirty years, she remained standing on her feet, Not moving from her spot any more than a tree. A bird slept peacefully upon her head, And a snake became an anklet around her shin. The rain washed her hair, And the morning breeze combed it like a compassionate caregiver. Never, against the world-shining sun, Did she have any canopy other than the cloud. Her lips were closed to drink and food; Like an angel, she ate neither morning nor evening meals. Like ants and locusts from every side, Beasts and wild animals stood in rows around her. In their midst, she was blissfully bewildered and intoxicated, Standing on her feet—neither non-existent nor existent. Her eyes were fixed on the beauty of the Witness of Truth, Her soul completely submerged in the ocean of love. Her heart engaged in spiritual flights, Her ears attuned to hidden secrets. Do not call her a woman, for in the struggles of pain, A single hair of hers was better than a hundred men. Man and woman are drunk on the form of the dusty clay, But the illuminated soul is pure and free from these. O Creator, deliver me from myself, And free me from the grief of man and the thought of woman. Grant me the fortitude to become a noble person, And to become independent of disciples and spiritual masters. Let me be drowned in the waves of the deep sea of mystery, So that I may never find a trace of myself again.

Updated 2026-07-07

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