Poem

دفتر سوم - بخش ۱۸۱ - عزم کردن آن وکیل ازعشق کی رجوع کند به بخارا لاابالی‌وار / Book Three — Section 181 — The Resolve of That Envoy to Return to Bukhara Out of Love, in a Reckless Manner

Original content

شمع مریم را بهل افروخته
که بخارا می‌رود آن سوخته

سخت بی‌صبر و در آتشدان تیز
رو سوی صدر جهان می‌کن گریز

این بخارا منبع دانش بود
پس بخاراییست هر کنش بود

پیش شیخی در بخارا اندری
تا به خواری در بخارا ننگری

جز به خواری در بخارای دلش
راه ندهد جزر و مد مشکلش

ای خنک آن را که ذلت نفسه
وای آنکس را که یردی رفسه

فرقت صدر جهان در جان او
پاره پاره کرده بود ارکان او

گفت بر خیزم هم‌آنجا واروم
کافر ار گشتم دگر ره بگروم

واروم آنجا بیفتم پیش او
پیش آن صدر نکواندیش او

گویم افکندم به پیشت جان خویش
زنده کن یا سر ببر ما را چو میش

کشته و مرده به پیشت ای قمر
به که شاه زندگان جای دگر

آزمودم من هزاران بار بیش
بی تو شیرین می‌نبینم عیش خویش

غن لی یا منیتی لحن النشور
ابرکی یا ناقتی تم السرور

ابلعی یا ارض دمعی قد کفی
اشربی یا نفس وردا قد صفا

عدت یا عیدی الینا مرحبا
نعم ما روحت یا ریح الصبا

گفت ای یاران روان گشتم وداع
سوی آن صدری که میر است و مطاع

دم‌بدم در سوز بریان می‌شوم
هرچه بادا باد آنجا می‌روم

گرچه دل چون سنگ خارا می‌کند
جان من عزم بخارا می‌کند

مسکن یارست و شهر شاه من
پیش عاشق این بود حب الوطن

English translation

Leave Mary's candle lit and burning, For that burned one is going to Bukhara.

Exceedingly impatient, fierce in the furnace, Turn your face and flee toward the Ṣadr-i Jahān.

This Bukhara was the source of all knowledge; Thus every deed that is, is of Bukharan origin.

Come before a Shaykh in Bukhara, So that you do not behold Bukhara in degradation.

Except through abasement into the Bukhara of his heart, The ebb and flow of his difficulties will grant him no passage.

Blessed is he whose self is humbled; Woe to him who ruins himself with a kick.

The separation from the Ṣadr-i Jahān had in his soul Torn his very foundations to pieces.

He said: I will rise and return to that very place; If I have become an infidel, I will believe once more.

I will return there and fall before him, Before that Ṣadr of noble thought.

I will say: I have cast my own soul before you; Either give us life, or sever our heads like sheep.

Slain and dead before you, O Moon, Is better than king of the living in another place.

I have tried it more than a thousand times: Without you I see no sweetness in my own life.

Sing to me, O my longing, the melody of resurrection; Kneel down, O my she-camel, joy is fulfilled.

Swallow, O earth, my tears — it is enough; Drink, O soul, a rose that has grown pure.

You have returned, O my festival, welcome to us; How well you have wafted, O morning breeze.

He said: O friends, I have set out — farewell! Toward that Ṣadr who is prince and obeyed lord.

Breath by breath I am being roasted in fire; Come what may, I am going there.

Though the heart acts like hard flint, My soul is resolved for Bukhara.

It is the dwelling of the Beloved and the city of my King; For the lover, this is ḥubb al-waṭan — love of the homeland.

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Updated 2026-05-16

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