Poem

دفتر پنجم - بخش ۱۹ - سبب آنک فرجی را نام فرجی نهادند از اول / Book Five - Section 19 - On the Reason Why the Faraji Garment Was Originally Named Faraji

Original content

صوفیی بدرید جبه در حرج
پیشش آمد بعد بدریدن فرج

کرد نام آن دریده فرجی
این لقب شد فاش زان مرد نجی

این لقب شد فاش و صافش شیخ برد
ماند اندر طبع خلقان حرف درد

هم چنین هر نام صافی داشتست
اسم را چون دردیی بگذاشتست

هر که گل خوارست دردی را گرفت
رفت صوفی سوی صافی ناشکفت

گفت لابد درد را صافی بود
زین دلالت دل به صفوت می رود

درد عسر افتاد و صافش یسر او
صاف چون خرما و دردی بسر او

یسر با عسرست هین آیس مباش
راه داری زین ممات اندر معاش

روح خواهی جبه بشکاف ای پسر
تا از آن صفوت برآری زود سر

هست صوفی آنک شد صفوت طلب
نه از لباس صوف و خیاطی و دب

صوفیی گشته به پیش این لیام
الخیاطه واللواطه والسلام

بر خیال آن صفا و نام نیک
رنگ پوشیدن نکو باشد ولیک

بر خیالش گر روی تا اصل او
نی چو عباد خیال تو به تو

دور باش غیرتت آمد خیال
گرد بر گرد سراپرده جمال

بسته هر جوینده را که راه نیست
هر خیالش پیش می آید بیست

جز مگر آن تیزکوش تیزهوش
کش بود از جیش نصرتهاش جوش

نجهد از تخییلها نی شه شود
تیر شه بنماید آنگه ره شود

این دل سرگشته را تدبیر بخش
وین کمانهای دوتو را تیر بخش

جرعه ای بر ریختی زان خفیه جام
بر زمین خاک من کاس الکرام

هست بر زلف و رخ از جرعه ش نشان
خاک را شاهان همی لیسند از آن

جرعه حسنست اندر خاک گش
که به صد دل روز و شب می بوسیش

جرعه خاک آمیز چون مجنون کند
مر ترا تا صاف او خود چون کند

هر کسی پیش کلوخی جامه چاک
که آن کلوخ از حسن آمد جرعه ناک

جرعه ای بر ماه و خورشید و حمل
جرعه ای بر عرش و کرسی و زحل

جرعه گوییش ای عجب یا کیمیا
که ز اسیبش بود چندین بها

جد طلب آسیب او ای ذوفنون
لا یمس ذاک الا المطهرون

جرعه ای بر زر و بر لعل و درر
جرعه ای بر خمر و بر نقل و ثمر

جرعه ای بر روی خوبان لطاف
تا چگونه باشد آن راواق صاف

چون همی مالی زبان را اندرین
چون شوی چون بینی آن را بی ز طین

چونک وقت مرگ آن جرعه صفا
زین کلوخ تن به مردن شد جدا

آنچ می ماند کنی دفنش تو زود
این چنین زشتی بدان چون گشته بود

جان چو بی این جیفه بنماید جمال
من نتانم گفت لطف آن وصال

مه چو بی این ابر بنماید ضیا
شرح نتوان کرد زان کار و کیا

حبذا آن مطبخ پر نوش و قند
کین سلاطین کاسه لیسان ویند

حبذا آن خرمن صحرای دین
که بود هر خرمن آن را دانه چین

حبذا دریای عمر بی غمی
که بود زو هفت دریا شب نمی

جرعه ای چون ریخت ساقی الست
بر سر این شوره خاک زیردست

جوش کرد آن خاک و ما زان جوششیم
جرعه دیگر که بس بی کوششیم

گر روا بد ناله کردم از عدم
ور نبود این گفتنی نک تن زدم

این بیان بط حرص منثنیست
از خلیل آموز که آن بط کشتنیست

هست در بط غیر این بس خیر و شر
ترسم از فوت سخنهای دگر

English translation

A Sufi tore his cloak in distress; after the tearing, relief came to him. He named that torn garment 'Faraji'; this name became famous from that noble man. This title became famous, and the Sheikh took its pure essence, while only the dregs of the word remained in the nature of ordinary people. In this manner, every name originally had a pure essence, but has left behind the name like dregs. Whoever is a clay-eater took the dregs; the Sufi went toward the pure, unclosed essence. He said: 'Surely the dregs must have a pure part; by this indication, the heart is guided toward purity.' The dregs are difficulty, and its pure part is ease; the pure is like ripe dates, and the dregs are like unripe ones. Ease is accompanied by difficulty; behold, do not despair! You have a way from this death into life. If you desire the spirit, tear open your cloak, O youth, so that you may quickly raise your head from that purity. The Sufi is the one who seeks purity, not from wearing wool, tailoring, and deception. To these vile people, being a Sufi has become: tailoring and sodomy, and that is all. Based on the imagination of that purity and good name, wearing the colored robe is good, but... ...only if you go upon its imagination to its origin, and not like the worshippers of multi-layered imagination. Imagination is the 'keep away!' warning of Divine jealousy, surrounding the pavilion of Beauty, blocking every seeker for whom there is no way; every imagination comes before him, saying: 'Stop!' Except indeed for that swift-striving, sharp-witted one, whose enthusiasm is supported by the army of divine victories. He does not leap from mere imaginings, nor does he become king, until the King's arrow shows itself, and then it becomes the path. Grant guidance to this bewildered heart, and provide arrows to these double-curved bows. You poured a single drop from that hidden cup onto the earth of my clay, from the cup of the Generous. There is a trace of its drop on the tresses and cheeks; because of that, kings lick the very dust. It is a drop of beauty within the pleasant earth, which you kiss day and night with a hundred hearts. Since the drop mixed with earth makes you wild like Majnun, how will its pure state affect you? Everyone tears their clothes before a clod of earth, because that clod has received a drop of beauty. A drop fell upon the moon, the sun, and Aries; a drop upon the Throne, the Pedestal, and Saturn. Do you call it a drop, O wonder, or an elixir? For from its touch, there is so much value. Earnestly seek its touch, O master of arts! 'None shall touch it save the purified.' A drop fell upon gold, rubies, and pearls; a drop upon wine, sweets, and fruits. A drop fell upon the faces of the delicate beauties; imagine then how that pure, filtered wine must be! Since you lick your tongue in this earthly drop, how will you be when you see it free from clay? When, at the time of death, that drop of purity is separated from this clod of the body by dying, that which remains, you bury quickly— how had it become so ugly? When the soul displays its beauty without this carcass, I cannot describe the sweetness of that union. When the moon displays its light without this cloud, its grandeur and power cannot be described. How wonderful is that kitchen filled with sweet nectar and sugar, of which these kings are mere bowl-lickers! How wonderful is that harvest in the field of religion, of which every other harvest is a mere gleaner! How wonderful is the ocean of grief-free life, of which the seven seas are but a nightly dew! When the Cupbearer of Alast poured a single drop upon this lowly, salty soil, that earth boiled, and we are from that boiling; give us another drop, for we are utterly powerless! If it was permissible, I wailed from non-existence; and if it was not to be said, behold, I hold my peace. This is the explanation of the duck of greed; learn from Abraham that the duck must be slain. There is much other good and evil in the duck, but I fear missing other discourses.

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Updated 2026-06-13

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