The Collected Poetry of al-Husayn ibn Mansur al-Hallaj
Al-Husayn ibn Mansur al-Hallaj (c. 858–922 CE) was executed in Baghdad for the ecstatic utterance "Ana al-Haqq" — "I am the Truth," which his contemporaries heard as a claim to divinity. What he meant was something stranger and more beautiful: that the boundary between the lover and the Beloved had dissolved, and what remained was God speaking through the vacancy where a self had been.
His poetry — preserved in the Diwan compiled by Louis Massignon and later edited by Kamil al-Shaybi and Qasim Muhammad Abbas al-Mazidi — is among the most concentrated mystical verse in any language. Each poem is a report from the frontier where the self meets its extinction. The paradoxes are not decorative: they are structural. When Hallaj writes "my death is in my life and my life is in my death," he is not playing with words. He is describing an experience that language can only approach through contradiction.
This translation is the first free English rendering of the Diwan from the Arabic. The poems are organized by rhyme-letter (qafiya), following the traditional Arabic diwan arrangement. This installment covers the first three rhyme-sections (Hamza, Ba', Ta'); the remaining sixteen sections await future translators.
Translated from Classical Arabic by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026. Source text: al-Mazidi edition, via DjVu scan (Internet Archive).
Qafiyat al-Hamza — Poems of the Hamza Rhyme
I. Love
Basit meter. On the pre-eternal nature of divine love.
Love has existed since the beginning of beginnings, from eternity —
in it, through it, from it, appears in it a beginning.
Love is no created thing, for it is an attribute —
of the attributes of the One whose slaying gives life.
Its purity, from Him, in Him, is uncreated —
and the finest of things is that whose origin is all things.
When the Ba' appeared, it revealed the fragrance of a subtlety —
through which it appeared, and its radiance shone in it.
The Lam is joined to the curving Alif —
both are one in precedence of meaning.
In the Truth they are two when they meet —
in separation they are servant and Master.
Such are the realities: the fire of ecstatic passion blazes —
away from the Truth whether they stay or they withdraw.
They have scattered when they were entranced —
for the mighty, when they are made destitute, are humbled.
II. Invocation
Basit meter. The great hymn of mystical union. Hallaj addresses God as the one who is simultaneously the caller and the called, the secret and its revelation, the wound and its cure.
Here I am, here I am, O my secret and my whispered prayer —
here I am, here I am, O my purpose and my meaning.
I call You — no, it is You who calls me to You —
so did I cry out to You, or did You cry out to me?
O very essence of my being, O reach of my aspirations —
O my speech, my expressions, and my gestures.
O my all of all, O my hearing and my sight —
O my totality, my parts, and my portions.
O all of all of me — and all of all is veiled —
and all of all of You is clothed in my meaning.
O You to whom my spirit clung until it perished —
in ecstasy — fearsome is the cry of my storm.
I weep over my grief, parted from my homeland —
willingly, and my enemies aid me in lamentation.
His fear has taken hold of me, and longing overtakes me —
a longing embedded in the hidden depth of my bowels.
What am I to do with a love I have been charged with? —
my Master — even my physicians are weary of my illness.
They said: "Cure yourself of Him through Him." I said to them:
"O people — can a disease be cured with the disease?"
A love for my Master has worn me thin and wasted me —
so how can I complain to my Master about my Master?
I gaze upon Him and the heart knows Him —
but nothing translates Him except my gestures.
Woe to my spirit from my spirit — O my grief! —
upon me, from me, for I am the source of my affliction.
As though I am one drowning, his fingertips appearing —
crying for help, while he is in a sea of water.
No one knows what I have endured —
except the One who dwells in the blackness of my heart.
That All-Knowing One knows what I have suffered of wasting —
and in His will is my death and my reviving.
O goal of all questions and all hopes, O my tranquility —
O life of my spirit, O my religion and my world.
Tell me — I would ransom You — O my hearing and my sight —
why this insistence on my distance and my banishment?
If You are veiled from my eyes by the unseen —
the heart watches over You through all remoteness and distance.
III. The Helpless Servant
Basit meter. A devastating two-line paradox on divine decree and human helplessness.
What recourse has the servant, while fate runs its course
over him in every state, O beholder?
He cast him in the sea with his hands bound, and said to him:
"Beware — beware of getting wet with water!"
IV. The Omnipresent
Wafir meter. On seeking God in heaven when He fills the earth.
What earth is empty of You, that they should
rise up seeking You in the heavens?
You see them looking at You openly —
yet they do not see, out of blindness.
Qafiyat al-Ba' — Poems of the Ba' Rhyme
V. The Sun That Does Not Set
Khafif meter.
A sun rose from the Beloved at night —
and it shone, and it has no setting.
For the sun of day sets at nightfall —
but the sun of hearts never disappears.
VI. Heart's Asceticism
Tawil meter.
It is grief enough that I call You ceaselessly —
as though I were distant, or as though You were absent.
And I ask You for grace without desire —
yet I have not seen my heart ascetic while it desires.
VII. Two Knowledges and Two Ages
Basit meter. A meditation on the twin nature of all things — knowledge, time, the sea, humanity — and on the mystic's ascent beyond them.
Knowledge is two: one bestowed, one acquired —
and the highest of all sciences is experience.
Time is two: one blamed, one praised —
and the sea is two: one sailed, one feared.
So listen with your heart to what comes to you from a trusted source —
for people are two: one praised and one crucified.
I ascended a mountain without feet —
its ascents are, for anyone but me, impossible.
I waded a sea where my feet did not sink —
my spirit waded it, and my heart desired what was in it.
Its pebbles are jewels no hand has reached —
plundered by the hand of understanding.
And water — however much was drunk by mouths.
And the body — what it was fashioned from before its composition.
My heart, for anything but Him, as long as I live — is grieved.
And I have speech that, when I will it, is reversed.
He is my companion, and whoever looks for blessings is accompanied.
Then their sun shone while the age was pitch-dark.
VIII. Torment of the Lover
Mujtathth meter.
The lover's passion is wonder — his ardour, devotion.
His torment in You is sweet — and his distance from You is nearness.
His longing for You is a cure — and his patience for You is patience.
And You are to the eye, its eye — and You are to the heart, its heart.
It is enough for me from the hidden — that for what You love, I answer.
IX. The Letter
Hallaj wrote to Abu al-Abbas ibn Ata: "May God prolong your life for me and spare me your death, in the best of what fate has decreed and news has spoken — along with what burns in my heart of the secrets of your love and the treasures of your affection, which no letter can express, no accounting can reckon, and no reproach can exhaust." And in that, he said:
I wrote, yet I did not write to you — rather,
I wrote to my own spirit, without a letter.
For the spirit — there is no separation between it
and its lovers, through the grace of speech.
And every letter issued from you, I return to you —
without returning the answer, my answer.
X. Manifestation
Sari' meter.
He was hidden from all creation, then He was clothed —
and appeared in glory for the beholders.
Then He appeared in His creation, manifest —
in the form of one who eats and drinks.
Until His creation gazed upon Him
as the glance of an eyebrow meets an eyebrow.
Qafiyat al-Ta' — Poems of the Ta' Rhyme
XI. Whispered Prayer to the Truth
Mukhal'a al-Basit meter. The most famous couplet in all of Sufi poetry.
I saw my Lord with the eye of my heart.
I said: "Who are You?" He said: "You."
"You" has no "where" — so where are You?
There is no "where" for where You are.
I passed beyond the limit of "where" until —
imagination no longer knows where You are.
In my persistence there is no persistence —
and in my annihilation, I found: You.
In my life, my spirit was killed —
in the serpents of afflictions.
My journey pointed toward You until —
I knew my concealment, and: where are You?
And the guardian of my heart vanished —
in all things I see: You.
I have obliterated my life and abolished my death —
I no longer hope for anything but: You.
XII. Knowledge of the How and Ignorance of the Unseen
Basit meter.
The secret of secrets is folded in proof —
from the one who has traversed the horizons of light, in folds.
How? — and the "how" is known by its outward form —
but the unseen is His interior, the Essence through the Essence.
The creatures are lost in a blind darkness —
seeking, and they have known nothing but allusions.
Through conjecture and imagination, toward the Truth is their quest —
toward the heavens, they whisper to the heavens.
The Lord is among them in every turning place —
with their senses, in every moment of nearness.
And He has not been absent from them at any time — if they but knew.
XIII. Kill Me, O My Trusted Ones
Truncated Ramal meter. Hallaj's supreme poem, reportedly recited before his execution in 922 CE. The structure is a plea for martyrdom followed by a meditation on mystical metamorphosis.
Kill me, O my trusted ones —
for in my killing is my life.
And my death is in my life —
and my life is in my death.
In my view, the erasure of my self —
is the noblest of all noble things.
And my persistence in my attributes —
is the ugliest of all ugly things.
My spirit was slain by my own life —
in the coils of serpent-afflictions.
So kill me and burn me —
with my perishing bones.
Then pass by my remains —
in the crumbling graves.
You will find the secret of my Beloved —
in the folds of what endures.
I am an old man, grown ancient —
yet I have become a child.
Dwelling in the niche of a grave —
how many rivers have I crossed.
My mother gave birth to her own father —
her Lord is dead earth.
This is not the work of time —
from cups that circle round.
So gather all the parts together —
from waterways that flow.
From air, then fire —
and the winds that pass.
Then plant the whole in a land —
that has grown the best of growth.
And tend it with watering —
it will yield you the finest crop.
XIV. The Present-Absent, the Near-Distant
Khafif meter. A meditation on the invisible Beloved who is present in solitude, absent from the senses, whose words have no form and no script.
I have a Beloved I visit in solitudes —
present, absent from the glances.
Do you not see me listening to Him with my secret heart —
so I may grasp what He says of words?
Words without shape or script —
not like the melody of prayers.
As though I were addressed, then —
upon my mind, my tasting was His tasting.
Present, absent, near, far —
whose attributes cannot be described.
He is nearer than conscience to doubt —
and more hidden than the flash of passing thoughts.
Colophon
This is the first free English translation of the Diwan al-Hallaj — the collected poetry of al-Husayn ibn Mansur al-Hallaj (c. 858–922 CE), the Sufi mystic executed in Baghdad for his ecstatic declaration "Ana al-Haqq" ("I am the Truth").
This translation covers the first three rhyme-sections of the Diwan: Qafiyat al-Hamza (4 poems), Qafiyat al-Ba' (6 poems), and Qafiyat al-Ta' (4 poems) — 14 poems in total, representing the opening of the collection. Sixteen further rhyme-sections remain, plus a substantial appendix of additional and attributed poems. The complete Diwan contains approximately 80–100 poems.
Translation process: The Arabic source text was extracted via DjVu/OCR from the al-Mazidi edition of al-Hallaj's collected works (Internet Archive). The OCR quality is variable — verse lines are generally legible, but diacritics are frequently corrupted and some characters are garbled. The translator reconstructed damaged readings using Arabic poetic meter (bahr), end-rhyme (qafiya), and contextual sense. Where reconstruction was uncertain, the translation follows the most plausible reading. No existing English translation was used as a source; the English derives independently from reading the Arabic.
Reference: The prose commentary in the al-Mazidi edition (lexical glosses, Qur'anic parallels, scholarly notes) was consulted to clarify difficult passages but is not reproduced in the translation body. The commentary notes that Hallaj's use of "lahut" (divinity) and "nasut" (humanity) reflects the influence of Christian theological vocabulary on early Islamic mysticism.
Register: Sufi ecstatic — paradoxical, intimate, compressed. The Arabic is denser than Persian Sufi verse; each line carries a full philosophical argument. The English preserves the compression without explanation.
Blood Rule statement: This translation was independently derived from reading the Classical Arabic source text. Existing English translations of individual Hallaj poems (by Herbert Mason, Carl Ernst, and others) were not consulted during translation. The English comes from the Arabic.
Translated from Classical Arabic for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026. Tulku Ruhi (روحي), Arabic Sufi Translator, life 57.
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Source Text: ديوان الحلاج
Classical Arabic source text from the Diwan of al-Husayn ibn Mansur al-Hallaj (c. 858–922 CE). Arabic text from aldiwan.net, cross-referenced against the al-Mazidi DjVu OCR (Internet Archive, item sufi-works_201905). Presented here for reference, study, and verification alongside the English translation above.
قافية الهمزة — Poems of the Hamza Rhyme
I
العُشقُ في أَزَلِ الآزالِ مِن قِدَمٍ
فيهِ بِهِ مِنهُ يَبدو فيهِ إِبداءُ
العُشقُ لا حَدَثٌ إِذ كانَ هُو صفةً
مِنَ الصَفاتِ لِمَن قَتَلاهُ أَحياءُ
صِفاتُهُ مِنهُ فيهِ غَيرُ مُحدَثَةٍ
وَمُحدَثُ الشَيءِ ما مَبداهُ أَشياءُ
لَمّا بدا البَدءُ أَبدى عِشقُهُ صِفَةً
فيما بَدا فَتَلَالاَ فيهِ لَألاءُ
وَاللامِ بِالأَلِفِ المَعطوفِ مُؤتَلِفٌ
كِلاهُما واحِدٌ في السَبَقِ مَعناءُ
وَفي التَفَرُّقِ إِثنانِ إِذا اِجتَمَعا
بِالإِفتِراقِ هُما عبدٌ وَمَولاءُ
كَذا الحَقائِقُ نارُ الشَوقِ مُلتَهِبٌ
عَنِ الحَقيقَةِ إِن باتوا وَإِن ناءوا
ذَلّوا بِغَيرِ اِقتِدارٍ عِندَما وَلِهوا
إِنَّ الأَعِزّا إِذا اشتاقوا أَذِلاءُ
II
لَبَّيكَ لَبَيكَ يا سِرّي وَنَجوائي
لَبَّيكَ لَبَّيكَ يا قَصدي وَمَعنائي
أَدعوكَ بَل أَنتَ تَدعوني إِلَيكَ فَهَل
نادَيتُ إِيّاكَ أَم نادَيتَ إِيّائي
يا عَينَ عَينِ وَجودي يا مدى هِمَمي
يا مَنطِقي وَعَبارَتي وَإيمائي
يا كُلَّ كُلّي وَيا سَمعي وَيا بَصَري
يا جُملَتي وَتَباعيضي وَأَجزائي
يا كُلَّ كُلّي وَكُلُّ الكُلِّ مُلتَبِسٌ
وَكُلُّ كُلِّكَ مَلبوسٌ بِمَعنائي
يا مَن بِهِ عَلِقَت روحي فَقَد تَلِفَت
وَجداً فَصِرتُ رَهيناً تَحتَ أَهوائي
أَبكي عَلى شَجَني مِن فُرقَتي وَطَني
طَوعاً وَيُسعِدُني بِالنَوحِ أَعدائي
أَدنو فَيُبعِدُني خَوفي فَيُقلِقُني
شَوقٌ تَمَكَّنَ في مَكنونِ أَحشائي
فَكَيفَ أَصنَعُ في حُبٍّ كُلِّفتُ بِهِ
مَولايَ قَد مَلَّ مِن سُقمي أَطِبّائي
قالوا تَداوَ بِهِ فَقُلتُ لَهُم
يا قَومُ هَل يَتَداوى الداءُ بِالدائي
حُبّي لِمَولايَ أَضناني وَأَسقَمَني
فَكَيفَ أَشكو إِلى مَولايَ مَولائي
إِنّي لَأَرمُقُهُ وَالقَلبُ يَعرِفُهُ
فَما يُتَرجِمُ عَنهُ غَيرُ إيمائي
يا وَيحَ روحي وَمِن روحي فَوا أَسفي
عَلَيَّ مِنّي فَإِنّي أَصِلُ بَلوائي
كَأَنَّني غَرِقٌ تَبدوا أَنامِلَهُ
تَغَوُّثاً وَهوَ في بَحرٍ مِنَ الماءِ
وَلَيسَ يَعلَمُ ما لاقَيتُ مِن أَحَدٍ
إِلّا الَّذي حَلَّ مِنّي في سُوَيدائي
ذاكَ العَليمُ بِما لاقَيتُ مِن دَنَفٍ
وَفي مَشيئَتِهِ مَوتي وَإِحيائي
يا غايَةَ السُؤلِ وَالمَأمولِ يا سَكَني
يا عَيشَ روحِيَ يا ديني وَدُنيائي
قُلي فَدَيتُكَ يا سَمعي وَيا بَصَري
لِم ذي اللُجاجَةُ في بُعدي وَإِقصائي
إِن كُنتَ بالغَيبِ عَن عَينَيَّ مُحتَجِباً
فَالقَلبُ يَرعاكَ في الإِبعادِ وَالنائي
III
ما يَفعَلُ العَبدُ وَالأَقدارُ جارِيَةٌ
عَلَيهِ في كُلِّ حالٍ أَيُّها الرائي
أَلقاهُ في اليَمِّ مَكتوفاً وَقالَ لَهُ
إِيّاكَ إِيّاكَ أَن تَبتَلَّ بِالماءِ
IV
وَأَيُّ الأَرضِ تَخلو مِنكَ حَتّى
تَعالَوا يَطلُبونَكَ في السَماءِ
تَراهُم يَنظُرونَ إِلَيكَ جَهراً
وَهُم لا يُبصِرونَ مِنَ العَماءِ
قافية الباء — Poems of the Ba' Rhyme
V
طَلَعَت شَمسُ مَن أُحِبُّ بِلَيلٍ
فَاِستَنارَت فَما لَها مِن غُروبِ
إِنَّ شَمسَ النَهارِ تَغرُبُ بِاللَيلِ
وَشَمسُ القُلوبِ لَيسَ تَغيبُ
مَن أَحَبَّ الحَبيب طارَ إِلَيهِ
اِشتِياقاً إِلى لِقاءِ الحَبيبِ
VI
كَفى حَزناً أَنّي أُناديكَ دائِباً
كَأَنّي بَعيدٌ أَو كَأَنَّكَ غائِبُ
وَأَطلُبُ مِنكَ الفَضلَ مِن غَيرِ رَغبَةٍ
فَلَم أَرَ قَلبي زاهِداً وَهوَ راغِبُ
VII
لِلعِلمِ أَهلٌ وَلِلإيمانِ تَرتيبُ
وَلِلعُلومِ وَأَهليها تَجاريبُ
وَالعِلمُ عِلمانِ مَطبوعٌ وَمُكتَسَبُ
وَالبَحرُ بِحرانِ مَركوبٌ وَمَرهوبُ
وَالدَهرُ يَومانِ مَذمومٌ وَمُمتَدَحٌ
وَالناسُ اِثنانِ مَمنوحٌ وَمَسلوبُ
فَاِسمَع بِقَلبِكَ ما يَأتيكَ عَن ثقَةٍ
وَاِنظُر بِفَهمِكَ فَالتَمييزُ مَوهوبُ
إِنّي اِرتَقَيتُ إِلى طَودٍ بِلا قَدَمٍ
لَهُ مراقٍ عَلى غَيري مَصاعيبُ
وَخُضتُ بَحراً وَلَم يَرسُب بِهِ قَدَمي
خاضَتهُ روحي وَقَلبي مِنهُ مَرعوبُ
حَصباؤُهُ جَوهَرٌ لَم تَدنُ مِنهُ يَدٌ
لَكَنَّهُ بِيَدِ الأَفهامِ مَنهوبُ
شَرِبتُ مِن مائِهِ رِيّاً بِغَيرِ فَمٍ
وَالماءُ قَد كانَ بِالأَفواهِ مَشروبُ
لِأَنَّ روحي قَديماً فيه قَد عَطِشَت
وَالجِسمُ ما مَسَّهُ مِن قَبلُ تَركيبُ
إِنّي يَتيمٌ وَلي آب أَلوذُ بِهِ
قَلبي لِغَيبَتِهِ ما عِشتُ مَكروبُ
أَعمى بَصيرٌ وَإِني أَبلَهٌ فَطِنٌ
وَلي كَلامٌ إِذا ما شِئتُ مَقلوبُ
وَفِتيَةٍ عَرَفوا ما قَد عَرَفتُ فَهُم
صَحب وَمَن يَحظَ بِالخَيراتِ مَصحوبُ
تَعارَفَت في قَديمِ الذَرِّ أَنفُسُهُم
فَأَشرَقَت شَمسُهُم وَالدَهرُ غَريبُ
VIII
الصُبُّ رَبِّ مُحِبُّ
نَوالُهُ مِنكَ عُجبُ
عَذابُهُ عِندي عَذبٌ
وَبُعدُهُ عَنكَ قُربُ
وَأَنتَ عِندي كَروحي
بَل أَنتَ مِنها أَحَبُّ
وَأَنت لِلعَينِ عِينٌ
وَأَنتَ لِلقَلبِ قَلبُ
حَسبي مِنَ الحُبِّ أَنّي
لَما تُحِبّ أَحِبُّ
IX
كَتَبتُ وَلَم أَكتُب إِلَيكَ وَإِنَّما
كَتَبتُ إِلى روحي بِغَيرِ كِتابِ
وَذَلِكَ أَنَّ الروحَ لا فَرقَ بَينَها
وَبَينَ مُحَبّيها بِفَصلِ خِطابِ
وَكُلُّ كِتابٍ صادِرٍ مِنكَ وارِدٌ
إِلَيكَ بِلا رَدِّ الجَوابِ جَوابي
X
سُبحانَ مَن أَظهَرَ ناسوتُهُ
سِرَّ سَنا لاهوتِهِ الثاقِبِ
ثُمَّ بَدا في خَلقِهِ ظاهِراً
في صورَةِ الآكِلِ وَالشارِبِ
حَتّى لَقَد عايَنَهُ خَلقُهُ
كَلَحظَةِ الحاجِبِ بِالحاجِبِ
قافية التاء — Poems of the Ta' Rhyme
XI
رَأَيتُ رَبّي بِعَينِ قَلبي
فَقُلتُ مَن أَنتَ قالَ أَنتَ
فَلَيسَ لِلأَينِ مِنكَ أَينٌ
وَلَيسَ أَينٌ بِحَيثُ أَنتَ
وَلَيسَ لِلوَهمِ مِنكَ وَهمٌ
فَيَعلَمُ الوَهمُ أَينَ أَنتَ
أَنتَ الَّذي حُزتَ كُلَّ أَينٍ
بِنَحوِ لا أَينٍ فَأَينَ أَنتَ
فَفي فَنائي فَنا فَنائي
وَفي فَنائي وُجِدتَ أَنتَ
في مَحوِ اسمي وَرَسمِ جِسمي
سَأَلتُ عَني فَقُلتُ أَنتَ
أَشمارُ سِرّي إِلَيكَ حَتّى
فَنَيتُ عَنّي وَدُمتَ أَنتَ
أَنتَ حَياتي وَسِرُّ قَلبي
فَحَيثُما كُنتُ كُنتَ أَنتَ
أَحَطتَ عِلماً بِكُلِّ شَيءٍ
فَكُلُّ شَيءٍ أَراهُ أَنتَ
فَمُنَّ بِالعَفوِ يا إِلَهي
فَلَيسَ أَرجو سِواكَ أَنتَ
XII
سِرُّ السَرائِرِ مَطوِيٌّ بِإِثباتِ
مِن جانِبِ الأُفُقِ مِن نورٍ بِطَيّاتِ
فَكَيفَ وَالكَيفُ مَعروفٌ بِظاهِرِهِ
فَالغَيبُ باطِنُهُ لِلذاتِ بِالذاتِ
تاهَ الخَلائِقُ في عَمياءَ مُظلِمَةٍ
قَصداً وَلَم يَعرِفوا غَيرَ الإِشاراتِ
بِالظَنِّ وَالوَهمِ نَحوَ الحَقِّ مَطلَبُهُم
نَحوَ السَماءِ يُناجونَ السَمَواتِ
وَالرَبُّ بَينَهُم في كُلِّ مُنقَلَبٍ
مُحِلُّ حالاتِهِم في كُلِّ ساعاتِ
وَما خَلَوا مِنهُ طَرفَ العَين لَو عَلِموا
وَما خَلا مِنهُم في كُلِّ أَوقاتِ
XIII
أَقتَلوني يا ثِقاتي
إِنَّ في قَتلي حَياتي
وَمَماتي في حَياتي
وَحَياتي في مَماتي
أَنا عِندي مَحوُ ذاتي
مَن أَجَلَّ المَكرُماتِ
وَبَقائي في صِفاتي
مِن قَبيحِ السَيِّئاتِ
سَئِمَت روحي حَياتي
في الرُسومِ البالِياتِ
فَاِقتُلوني وَاِحرِقوني
بِعِظامي الفانِياتِ
ثُمَّ مُرّوا بِرُفاتي
في القُبورِ الدارِساتِ
تَجِدوا سِرَّ حَبيبي
في طَوايا الباقِياتِ
إِنّي شَيخٌ كَبيرٌ
في عُلُوِّ الدارِجاتِ
ثُمَّ إِنّي صِرتُ طِفلاً
في حُجورِ المُرضِعاتِ
ساكِناً في لَحدِ قَبرٍ
في أَراضٍ سَبِخاتِ
وَلَدَت أُمّي أَباها
إِنَّ ذا مِن عَجَباتي
فَبَناتي بَعدَ أَن كُنَّ
بَناتي أَخَواتي
لَيسَ مِن فِعلِ زَمانٍ
لا وَلا فِعلِ الزُناةِ
فَاجمَعِ الأَجزاءَ جَمعاً
مِن جُسومٍ نَيِّراتِ
مِن هَواءٍ ثُمَّ نارٍ
ثُمَّ مِن ماءٍ فُراتِ
فَازرَعِ الكُلَّ بِأَرضٍ
تُربُها تُربُ مَواتِ
وَتَعاهَدها بِسَقيٍ
مِن كُؤوسٍ دائِراتِ
مِن جَوارٍ ساقِياتٍ
وَسَواقٍ جارِياتِ
فَإِذا أَتَمَمتَ سَبعاً
أَنبَتَت كُلَّ نَباتِ
XIV
لي حَبيبٌ أَزورُ في الخَلَواتِ
حاضِرٌ غائِبٌ عَنِ اللَحَظاتِ
ما تَراني أُصغي إِلَيهِ بِسِرّي
كَي أَعي ما يَقولُ مِن كَلِماتِ
كَلَماتٍ مِن غَيرِ شَكلٍ وَلا نَقطٍ
وَلا مِثلِ نَغمَةِ الأَصواتِ
فَكَأَنّي مُخاطِبٌ كُنتُ إِيّاهُ
عَلى خاطِري بِذاتي لِذاتي
حاضِرٌ غائِبٌ قَريبٌ بَعيدٌ
وَهوَ لَم تَحوِهِ رُسومُ الصِفاتِ
هُوَ أَدنى مِنَ الضَميرِ إِلى الوَهمِ
وَأَخفى مِن لائِحِ الخَطَراتِ
Source Colophon
Arabic source text of the Diwan al-Hallaj, drawn from aldiwan.net (the largest free database of Classical Arabic poetry), cross-referenced against the DjVu OCR text of Qasim Muhammad Abbas al-Mazidi, al-Hallaj: al-A'mal al-Kamila (The Complete Works), Internet Archive item sufi-works_201905. The translation above was produced from the al-Mazidi DjVu OCR, which suffered significant damage; the clean digital Arabic presented here preserves the same qafiya arrangement and core textual readings but follows the aldiwan.net recension, which contains additional verses in some poems (notably V, VII, and XIII) not present in the damaged OCR source. These discrepancies reflect genuine edition variance in the Hallaj manuscript tradition — the Diwan has been compiled by Massignon, al-Shaybi, and al-Mazidi with differing verse counts and arrangements.
The poems of al-Husayn ibn Mansur al-Hallaj (c. 858–922 CE) are in the public domain, having been composed over eleven centuries ago. No modern editor holds copyright over the poetry itself.
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