by Jalal al-Din Muhammad Rumi

The Masnavi-ye Ma'navi — "Spiritual Couplets" — is the masterwork of Jalal al-Din Muhammad Rumi (1207-1273 CE). Composed in the final years of his life in Konya and dictated to his disciple Husam al-Din Chelebi, it runs to six books and more than twenty-five thousand couplets in the masnavi form of paired rhyming verses.

This public page is not the complete Book I. It contains selected opening material from Book I: Sections I-X, followed by Sections XII-XXXIV. Section XI, "The Grocer and the Parrot," is not present in this page. The complete Book I contains 172 sections and 4,013 couplets.

The included material contains the Song of the Reed, the Story of the King and the Handmaiden, and the opening run of the Story of the Jewish King and the Vizier through the War of the Scrolls. The public unit is therefore a selected-sections dossier from Book I, not a finished Book I translation.

I. The Song of the Reed

Listen to the reed, how it tells its tale —
it speaks of nothing but separation.

"Ever since they cut me from the reedbed,
men and women have wept at my cry.

I want a breast torn open by parting,
to pour out the pain of longing.

Everyone cast far from their source
seeks the time of reunion.

I have cried in every gathering —
I have kept company with the wretched and the joyful.

Each became my friend from their own notion,
but none sought the secrets within me.

My secret is not far from my cry,
but eye and ear lack the light to find it.

Body is not hidden from soul, nor soul from body,
yet no one is given leave to see the soul."

This reed's cry is fire, not air.
Whoever lacks this fire — let them be nothing.

It is love's fire that fell into the reed.
It is love's ferment that fell into the wine.

The reed is companion to all cut from a companion —
its veils have torn our veils.

Who has seen a poison and antidote like the reed?
Who has seen a confidant and a longing like the reed?

The reed tells of the blood-drenched path.
It tells the stories of Majnun's love.

None but the senseless is privy to this sense.
The tongue has no buyer but the ear.

In our grief the days have grown untimely.
The days have become companions of burning.

If the days have passed, let them go — no fear.
But You remain, O You whose purity is beyond compare.

Everyone but the fish grows weary of water.
Everyone without daily bread finds the day long.

The raw cannot grasp the state of the cooked.
So let the word be brief — and peace.

II. The King Falls in Love with a Handmaiden

Listen, O friends, to this story —
truly, it is the coin of our own condition.

There was a king in a time before this
who held both the kingdom of the world and of faith.

One day, by chance, the king rode out
with his chosen companions to hunt.

On the highway the king saw a handmaiden.
The king became the slave of that handmaiden.

The bird of his soul beat against its cage.
He paid the price and bought the handmaiden.

When he had bought her and had his joy,
by fate's decree the handmaiden fell ill.

One man had a donkey but no saddle.
When he found a saddle, the wolf took the donkey.

One man had a jug but no water.
He found the water — and the jug broke.

He summoned physicians from every quarter,
saying: "Both our lives are in your hands.

Whoever cures her sickness —
mine are the treasures of rubies and gold."

They all said: "We will put our heads together.
We will find a remedy with thought and skill.

Each of us is the Christ of his age —
every illness has its cure within our palms."

In their pride they did not say "God willing."
So God showed them the meaning of human weakness.

The more they gave of compound remedies,
the worse her sickness grew at every turn.

The handmaiden became as thin as a hair,
and the king's eyes wept blood like a stream.

From fate, the vinegar turned honey bitter.
The cure became the disease itself.

The handmaiden withered to a shadow of a hair,
and the king saw her state and lost his wits.

The physicians' remedies had gone wrong.
Her blood ran to water and her water turned sour.

Purging caused her constipation to lock fast.
Water fed the fire like oil on a lamp.

From the laxative, her limbs seized shut.
From aloe, her thirst grew parched beyond measure.

III. The King Goes to the Mosque

When the king saw the failure of those physicians,
he ran barefoot toward the mosque.

He went into the mosque and found the prayer niche.
The prayer-ground was flooded by the king's tears.

When he came to himself from the drowning-place of annihilation,
he opened his tongue sweetly in praise and prayer:

"O You whose least gift is the kingdom of the world —
what shall I say, since You already know what is hidden?

O You who have always been the refuge of our need,
once again we have lost the way.

But You said: 'Though I know your secret,
speak it plainly upon your surface.'"

When from the depths of his soul he raised a cry,
the ocean of mercy came surging in.

In the midst of his weeping, sleep seized him.
In a dream he saw an old man appear.

He said: "Good news, O king! Your prayers are answered.
If a stranger comes to you tomorrow, he is sent.

When he arrives, know him as a physician of the spirit.
He is true — consider him trustworthy.

See pure power in his remedy.
See the hand of God in his nature."

When the appointed hour came and the sun rose,
dawn broke and the king's dream came true.

He saw a worthy man approaching from afar —
the sun shining amid the shadows.

Like the figure he had seen in his dream,
the guest arrived. He was both moon and sun.

He came from the unseen, like a new moon —
if you cannot see a thing, it does not mean it is not.

A form coming from the world of the formless —
half a gaze cannot hold him fully.

Both were swimmers in the ocean of spirit —
sewn together without seam, like water and cloth.

The king said: "You were my beloved, not the handmaiden!
But in this world, one thing leads to another.

O you who are the Christ of our time,
I am Lazarus. Give me new life."

IV. On Courtesy

We seek from God the grace of courtesy.
Whoever lacks courtesy is denied God's grace.

Whoever lacks courtesy has not only harmed himself
but has set fire to every horizon.

A feast descended from the heavens —
with no buying, no selling, no exchange.

Among the people of Moses, a few discourteous ones
said: "Where are the garlic and the lentils?"

The feast and the bread from heaven were cut off.
Only the labor of plowing and scythe remained.

When Jesus interceded once more,
God sent a table laden with gifts.

The food from heaven became a returning bounty
when he said: "Send down upon us a table."

But once again the shameless abandoned courtesy —
like beggars they snatched up the leftovers.

Jesus pleaded with them, saying:
"This feast is permanent. It will not diminish from the earth."

To be suspicious and grasping with greed
is unbelief before the table of the Lord.

Because of those beggarly souls, blind with greed,
the door of mercy was shut upon them.

The cloud withholds its rain when the alms are withheld.
From adultery, plague falls upon the lands.

Whatever darkness and grief descend upon you —
that is from impudence and arrogance.

Whoever is impudent on the road of the Friend
is a highway robber and no man at all.

From courtesy the heavens were filled with light.
From courtesy the angels were made pure.

The sun went into eclipse from arrogance.
Azazel was turned from the door by his audacity.

V. The Divine Physician Arrives

He opened his arms and clasped him.
Like love itself, he entered his heart and soul.

He kissed his hands and his brow,
and asked about his journey and his state.

Question upon question, he drew him to the high seat:
"At last, through patience, I have found a treasure."

He said: "O light of God, O cure for affliction,
you are the meaning of 'patience is the key to deliverance.'

O you whose face is the answer to every question —
before you, difficulties dissolve without words.

You are the interpreter of whatever lies in our hearts.
You are the one who takes the hand of all whose feet are in the mud."

"Welcome, O chosen one, O righteous one!
If you are absent, fate contracts and the horizon narrows.

You are the master of the people — whoever does not desire you
has surely perished, utterly and beyond recall."

When the audience and the feast of grace had passed,
the king took his hand and led him to the inner chamber.

VI. The Physician Examines the Handmaiden

He told the story of the patient and her suffering,
then seated the physician before the sick one.

He observed her color, her pulse, her urine.
He heard both the symptoms and their causes.

He said: "Everything those physicians prescribed
has not built her up — it has torn her down.

They were ignorant of her inner state.
God protect us from what they fabricate."

He saw the ailment. The hidden thing was laid bare to him.
But he concealed it and said nothing to the king.

Her sickness was not from bile or black humor —
the scent of every fuel shows in its smoke.

He saw from her weeping that she was heartsick.
Her body was sound, but she was caught by the heart.

Being in love shows plainly from the sickness of the heart.
There is no illness like the illness of the heart.

The lover's disease is set apart from all diseases.
Love is the astrolabe of God's mysteries.

Whether love comes from this side or from that,
in the end it leads us toward that shore.

However much I describe and explain love,
when I reach love itself, I am ashamed of all I said.

Though the tongue's commentary makes things clear,
love without tongue is clearer still.

When the pen rushed to set down its words,
upon reaching love, it split in two.

Reason, in trying to explain love,
fell down like a donkey stuck in mud.

It was love alone that could speak of love and loving.
The proof of the sun is the sun itself.

If you need proof, do not turn away from the sun.
A shadow tells tales, but the sun is the evidence.

The shadow brings you sleep, like evening conversation.
When the sun rises, the moon splits in two.

Nothing stranger than the sun exists in this world,
yet the Sun of the soul — that sun has no setting.

The outward sun, though nothing equals it,
can still be gazed upon. But the inner Sun
lives within and may be contemplated there.

When the physician listened to her pulse
and asked her, question upon question, of her state,

she told stories of her friends and of her city —
as one tells tales to a companion.

He kept one ear upon her stories
and the other on the leaping of her pulse,

so that at whose name her pulse would jump,
that one would be the desire of her soul in the world.

He counted her friends and her city one by one,
then named another city.

He said: "When you left your own city,
in which city did you live the longest?"

She named a city, and he passed on.
Her face and pulse did not change.

Masters and cities, one by one,
she spoke of — where she lived, where she earned her bread.

City by city, house by house, she told her story.
Not a vein stirred, nor did her cheek grow pale.

Her pulse held steady, undisturbed,
until he asked about Samarkand, sweet as sugar.

Her pulse leapt. Her face flushed red, then yellow —
for from a goldsmith of Samarkand she had been torn.

VII. How the Physician Discovered the Secret

He said: "O king, clear the house.
Send away both kin and stranger.

Let no one linger in the hallways,
so I may ask this girl certain things."

The house stood empty — not a soul remained
except the physician and the patient.

Gently, gently he said: "What is your city?
For the cure varies with the people of each place.

And in that city, who are your kin?
What ties and bonds do you have?"

He placed his hand upon her pulse
and asked her, one by one, of fate's cruelties.

When someone gets a thorn stuck in their foot,
they lift the foot upon the knee

and search for it with a needle's point.
If they cannot find it, they wet the spot with their lips.

A thorn in the foot is hard enough to find —
a thorn in the heart? How much harder. Answer that.

If the thorn in the heart could be seen by any fool,
when would sorrow have any power over anyone?

Someone places a thorn beneath a donkey's tail.
The donkey cannot remove it and leaps and bucks.

It leaps, and the thorn digs deeper still.
A wise one is needed to draw out the thorn.

The donkey, to escape the thorn's burning pain,
kicks in all directions, making a hundred wounds.

That physician, skilled in drawing thorns, was a master.
He probed, here and there, testing.

From the handmaiden, in the manner of a storyteller,
he continued asking about friends and acquaintances.

With the physician she spoke openly of many things —
of her dwelling, of masters, of city and home.

He kept one ear upon her storytelling
and one attention on the jumping of her pulse,

so that at whose name her pulse would leap —
that one was the soul's desire in this world.

He listed her friends and her city, one by one,
then brought up yet another city's name.

He said: "When you left your own city,
in which city did you spend the most time?"

She named a city, and he moved past.
Her color and her pulse did not change.

Masters and cities, one by one,
she recounted — where she stayed, where she had bread and salt.

City by city, house by house, she told her tale.
No vein stirred, nor did her cheek grow pale.

Her pulse stayed steady, undisturbed,
until he asked about Samarkand, sweet as sugar.

Her pulse leapt. Her face turned red, then sallow.
She had been parted from a goldsmith of Samarkand.

When the physician found this secret from the patient,
he traced the root of the pain and the affliction.

He said: "On which street does he live? Which road?"
She said: "At Bridge End, on the Street of Ghatifar."

He said: "I know what ails you. Quickly
I will weave the remedy for your release.

Be glad, be at ease, feel safe — for I
will do for you what the rain does for the meadow.

I will carry your grief — you need not carry it.
I am tenderer toward you than a hundred fathers.

Take care! Tell this secret to no one,
even if the king questions you a hundred ways.

When the house of your secrets becomes like the heart,
your wish will be fulfilled all the sooner."

The Prophet said: "Whoever hides a secret
is soon united with what they desire."

When the seed is hidden in the earth,
its secret becomes the green of the garden.

If gold and silver were not hidden,
how would they be nourished beneath the mine?

The physician's promises and gentle words
made the sick one safe from fear.

There are promises that are true and warm the heart.
There are promises that are false and breed nausea.

The promise of the noble is a flowing treasure.
The promise of the base is a flowing pain.

VIII. The Physician Informs the King

Then the physician rose and went to the king
and informed him of the matter, in part.

He said: "The remedy is to bring that man here.
Summon him from that distant city for this sickness.

Send gold and robes to lure the goldsmith.
Let him be beguiled by the honor, and he will come."

IX. Sending for the Goldsmith of Samarkand

The king sent two envoys to that quarter —
shrewd, capable men, honest and upright.

They came to Samarkand, those two nobles,
bearing good tidings from the king of kings.

"O gracious master, full of skill,
your fame has spread through every city!

Look — the king has chosen you among all goldsmiths,
for you are the foremost of them all.

Here — take this robe of honor, this gold and silver.
When you come, you will be his intimate and favorite."

The man saw the wealth and the lavish robes.
Beguiled, he left his city and his children.

Happy and cheerful, he set out on the road —
not knowing the king intended his death.

He mounted a fine Arab horse and galloped joyfully,
not knowing his own blood-price was the robe he wore.

O traveler, this world is a mountain, and our actions are the call.
The echo of our calling returns to us.

He arrived at the court, happy and unsuspecting.
The physician brought him before the king with honor.

The king received him graciously
and entrusted the treasury of gold to him.

Then the physician said: "O great king,
give this handmaiden to this man,

so that by union with him she may be healed,
and the water may reach the parched field."

The king gave the handmaiden to the goldsmith.
The two who longed for each other were united.

For six months he served as the water to her fire,
and she drank the beauty of his presence, and was healed.

Then the physician prepared a potion for the man.
When he drank it, he began to waste before her eyes.

When his beauty failed from sickness and his color turned,
the handmaiden's soul was no longer tangled in him.

Since his face had gone sallow and ugly,
love for him slowly faded from her heart.

Loves that are founded on the beauty of the skin —
those are not love. They end in shame.

Would that the shame had come at the very start,
so no blood would have been spilled.

His eyes wept blood. His face grew sallow.
The seedling of beauty withered at the root.

Keen sight saw the truth from the beginning —
but passion's eye saw not.

The lion of rancor that hunts the soul
slinks away when love's prey is gone.

Fidelity built upon outward form
is not fidelity. It is the renting of a face.

His soul departed. He became a body without life.
She dropped him like a corpse, washed clean of grief.

The love that rests on color and on form —
that is not love. It is a borrowed robe, and a disgrace.

X. On the Death of the Goldsmith

The physician did not kill that man for the king's pleasure,
nor from hope of gain, nor fear of punishment.

He killed him not for the sake of the king's desire —
not until the command and inspiration of God had come.

That boy whose throat Khizr cut —
the common mind cannot grasp its secret.

He who receives from God both revelation and response —
whatever he commands is the very essence of right.

He who grants life — if he slays, it is lawful.
He is the deputy, and his hand is the hand of God.

Like Ishmael, lay your head before his blade.
Joyful and laughing, lay down your soul before his sword,

so your soul may remain laughing for eternity,
as the pure soul of the Prophet lives on with the One.

Lovers drain the cup of the spirit
when they are slain by the hand of the beautiful.

The king gazed upon the handmaiden. She was free.
The tangle of body and its passions was undone.

Color has no love for color.
The reed is not in love with the cane-cutter.

The reed, wherever it goes, is drawn by the lips of the player.
Where there is melody, there is the reed.

But if the cane-cutter also plays sweetly —
then the worker and the master are two seas made one.

What floods the world is not form's beauty.
It is the hidden sun shining through a wall of clay.

Shake off this dust. The mirror's face
is not what you see — it is the light behind it.

The breath of the reed belongs not to the reed.
It belongs to the one whose breath fills it.

Whether the praise comes from reed or from player,
it belongs to Him — give thanks to Him alone.

The story continues. This is the opening of Book I. The Masnavi has six books and twenty-five thousand couplets. What stands here is the first door.

Section XI of Book I is not present in this public text.

XII. The Jewish King Who Killed Christians

There was a king among the Jews, a maker of cruelty —
enemy of Jesus and destroyer of Christians.

It was the age of Jesus — his turn had come.
Moses was his spirit, and he the spirit of Moses.

The cross-eyed king, on the road of God,
tore apart those two who were of one divine breath.

A master said to a cross-eyed man: "Come in.
Go and bring out the bottle from the room."

The cross-eyed man said: "Of those two bottles —
which shall I bring? Tell me clearly."

The master said: "There are not two. Go —
leave your cross-eyed sight and stop seeing double."

He said: "Master, do not mock me."
The master said: "Of the two, break one."

When he broke the one, both vanished from his sight.
A man becomes cross-eyed from hatred and desire.

The bottle was one — his eye showed it as two.
When he broke the bottle, the other was gone.

Anger and lust make a man cross-eyed.
They twist the spirit from its upright state.

When self-interest enters, skill is hidden.
A hundred veils pass from heart to eye.

When a judge lets bribery into his heart,
how will he tell the tyrant from the wretched victim?

The king, from Jewish spite of such a kind,
became so cross-eyed — mercy, O Lord, mercy!

He slaughtered a hundred thousand innocent believers,
claiming: "My refuge is the religion of Moses."

XIII. The Vizier Teaches the King a Stratagem

He had a vizier — an infidel, a dealer in wiles,
who could tie knots on water through sheer cunning.

He said: "The Christians take refuge for their lives.
They hide their faith from the king.

Kill them less — for killing is no use.
Faith has no scent. It is not musk or aloe.

The secret is hidden beneath a hundred wrappings.
Its surface is with you, but its depths oppose you."

The king said: "Then tell me — what is the remedy?
What is the cure for such cunning and deception?

So that no Christian remains in all the world —
no faith in the open, and none in hiding."

He said: "O king, cut off my ears and hands.
Split my nose and cut my lip by your decree.

Then drag me beneath the gallows
until someone intercedes for me.

Do this at the crier's post,
at the crossroads where the four roads meet.

Then banish me far from you to a distant city,
so that I may sow among them strife and uproar."

XIV. The Vizier Speaks Among the Christians

"Then I will say: 'In secret I am a Christian.
O God who knows all secrets — You know me.

The king discovered my faith,
and from bigotry he sought my life.

I tried to hide my faith from the king
and outwardly profess his religion as my own.

But the king caught a scent of my secrets.
My words became suspect before the king.

He said: Your speech hides needles in the bread.
From my heart to your heart there is a window.

Through that window I have seen your state.
I see your state — I do not accept your words.'

Were it not that the spirit of Jesus was my refuge,
he would have torn me apart in Jewish fashion.

For Jesus' sake I lay down my life, I give my head.
I place a hundred thousand debts of thanks upon myself.

My life I do not grudge for Jesus — yet
I know the knowledge of his faith full well.

It grieved me that this pure religion
should perish among the ignorant."

"Thanks be to God and thanks to Jesus
that we have become the guide of this true faith.

We have escaped from the Jews and from their creed
and tied the Christian sash around our waist.

The age is the age of Jesus, O people!
Hear the secrets of his faith with all your soul."

The king did to the vizier what was agreed.
The people stood amazed at the hidden ruse.

He drove him toward the lands of the Christians,
and the vizier began his mission there.

XV. The Christians Accept the Vizier

A hundred thousand Christian men came to him —
little by little they gathered in his lane.

He spoke with them in secret,
revealing the mysteries of the Gospel, the sash, and prayer.

Outwardly he was a preacher of God's law,
but inwardly he was the whistle and the snare.

For this reason, some of the Companions of the Prophet
sought knowledge of the ego's monstrous wiles —

how it mingles hidden motives
with acts of worship and the soul's sincerity.

They did not seek from him the merits of obedience —
they looked for the hidden fault and asked: where is it?

Hair by hair and atom by atom, the ego's cunning
they could distinguish — as one tells the rose from celery.

Yet even the hair-splitters among the Companions
stood bewildered at the soul of his sermons.

XVI. The Antichrist and the Thieving Mouse

The Christians gave him their hearts entirely —
for what is the power of the common people but imitation?

They planted his love in the breast of their hearts.
They supposed him the vicar of Jesus.

Yet in secret he was the Antichrist — the one-eyed accursed one.
O God, help us! What a Protector You are!

A hundred thousand snares and baits there are, O God,
and we are like greedy, helpless birds.

Breath by breath, we are caught in a new trap —
even if each of us becomes a falcon or Simurgh.

You free us every moment, and yet again
we run toward the trap, O Self-Sufficient One.

We store up wheat in this granary,
yet the wheat we have gathered vanishes.

We do not pause to think
that the fault in our wheat is from the cunning of the mouse.

The mouse has tunneled into our granary,
and through its craft our storehouse lies in ruin.

O soul, first drive away the harm of the mouse —
then stir yourself to gather the wheat.

Hear from the sayings of the chief of chiefs:
"No prayer is complete without Presence."

If there were no thieving mouse in our granary,
where is the wheat of forty years of deeds?

Why does the daily, grain-by-grain sincerity
never accumulate in this granary of ours?

Many a spark of fire has leapt from the steel,
and the burning heart has received and held it —

but in the dark a hidden thief
places his finger on the sparks,

extinguishing them one by one,
so that no lamp is lit from the sky.

Even if a thousand traps lie at our feet,
when You are with us there is no cause for fear.

When Your grace abides with us always,
what dread can come from that wretched thief?

Each night You free the spirits from the trap of the body —
You wipe clean the tablets of the mind.

The spirits escape this cage each night —
free, neither ruler nor ruled by anyone.

At night, the prisoners know nothing of their prison.
At night, the kings know nothing of their reign.

No worry, no thought of profit or loss.
No notion of this person or that.

This is the state of the mystic even without sleep.
God said: "They were asleep" — attend to this.

Asleep to the affairs of the world, day and night,
like a pen in the turning fingers of the Lord.

He who does not see the fingers guiding the writing
imagines the movement comes from the pen.

A trace of this mystic state has been revealed —
but sense-bound sleep has overtaken even the intellect.

Their souls have gone into the desert of How-lessness,
their spirits at rest while their bodies lie here.

Then by a whistle You draw them back into the trap —
You pull them all into the court of justice and decree.

When the light of dawn lifts its head
and the golden vulture of the sky spreads its wings,

like Israfil, the Splitter of the Dawn
returns them all to form from that far land.

The spirits that had spread wide — He gives them bodies.
He makes each body pregnant again with the soul.

He strips the saddle from the horses of the spirits.
This is the secret of: "Sleep is the brother of death."

But so that they return by day,
He ties a long tether to their feet,

so that by daylight He may pull them from the pasture
and bring them back from the meadow, under the yoke.

If only this spirit could be preserved,
as the Sleepers of the Cave were — or the Ark of Noah —

so that from this flood of wakefulness and consciousness
this heart and eye and ear might be delivered!

O how many Sleepers of the Cave are in this world,
right beside you, right before you, at this very moment.

The Friend is with them, the Cave is with them in their singing —
but a seal is on your eyes. What good is your ear?

XVII. Layla and Majnun — On Shadows and Saints

The caliph said to Layla: "Is it you
from whom Majnun went mad and lost his way?

You are no fairer than the other beauties!"
She said: "Be silent — for you are not Majnun."

Whoever seems awake is more deeply asleep.
Their wakefulness is worse than their sleep.

When the soul is not awake to the Real,
then wakefulness is a cage around us.

All day the soul is kicked about by fantasy,
by profit and loss and fear of decline.

No purity remains to it, no grace, no glory,
no road of travel toward the sky.

The true sleeper is one who, from every phantom,
holds out hope and enters into dialogue.

He sees a demon as a houri in his dream,
then spills his seed in lust with that demon.

When he has sown his seed in the salt marsh,
he comes to himself. The phantom flees.

He sees his head is weak, his body foul.
O grief for that image — seen, then vanished.

A bird flies high, and below it its shadow
runs along the ground as if it too were winged.

A fool becomes the hunter of that shadow —
he runs until his strength is spent.

He does not know the shadow is the reflection of a bird in the air.
He does not know where the source of the shadow lies.

He shoots his arrows at the shadow.
His quiver empties from the chase.

The quiver of his life is emptied. Life is gone —
burned away in running after the shadow's prey.

But when the Shadow of God becomes his nurse,
it delivers him from phantoms and from shadows.

The Shadow of God is the servant of God —
dead to this world and alive through God.

Seize his garment quickly, without doubt,
so you may be saved in the skirts of the last days.

"How He spread the shadow" — this is the mark of the saints,
who are the proof of the light of God's sun.

Do not walk this valley without this guide.
Say like Abraham: "I love not those that set."

Go — from the shadow, find the Sun.
Hold the hem of Shams-i Tabrizi, the king.

If you do not know the way to this feast and wedding,
ask Husam al-Din, the Light of Truth.

And if envy seizes you by the throat on the road —
know that in envy, Iblis holds the extreme.

He held Adam in contempt out of envy.
He wages war with happiness out of envy.

There is no mountain pass harder than this on the road.
Blessed is the one whom envy does not accompany.

Know that this body is the house of envy.
The household is tainted with envy.

Yet even if the body is the house of envy,
God has purified that body well.

"Purify My house" — this declares its purity.
It is a treasury of light, though its talisman is dust.

When you practice cunning and envy against one free of envy,
from that envy, blackness falls upon your heart.

Become dust beneath the feet of the men of God.
Throw dust upon the head of envy — as we have done.

XVIII. The Vizier's Lineage of Envy

That petty vizier — his lineage was envy itself —
for vanity he sacrificed his ears and nose.

In the hope that the sting of his envy
might deliver its poison to the souls of the helpless.

Whoever cuts off his nose from envy
has made himself without ears and without a nose.

The nose is that which catches a scent —
the scent leads it toward a certain lane.

Whoever has no scent is truly noseless.
That scent is the fragrance of religion.

When he caught a scent and gave no thanks for it,
it became ingratitude — and his nose was consumed.

Give thanks. Be the servant of the thankful.
Be dead before them, so you may endure.

Do not make highway robbery your trade, like the vizier.
Do not turn the people away from prayer.

That infidel vizier became the counselor of faith —
he traveled through cunning into the cherry orchard of deceit.

XIX. The Sweetness Paired with Bitterness

Whoever had taste and discernment saw in his words
a sweetness — but paired with bitterness.

He spoke subtleties that were mixed —
poison poured into the syrup of sugar.

His surface said: "Be nimble on the path."
But his effect said to the soul: "Be weak."

Though silver is white and bright on the outside,
it blackens both your hands and clothes.

Though fire is red-faced with its sparks,
look at its deeds — and see only blackness.

Though lightning appears as light in the eye,
its hidden nature is the thief of sight.

All who lacked awareness and taste —
his words became a collar around their necks.

For six years, exiled from the king,
the vizier became the refuge of the followers of Jesus.

The people entrusted their faith and hearts to him entirely.
Before his orders and decree, the people died obediently.

XX. The Hidden Messages

Between the king and the vizier, secret messages passed.
The king found hidden comfort in him.

At last, for the sake of that purpose —
to scatter the Christians like dust in the wind —

the king wrote to him: "O my fortunate one,
the time has come. Quickly — put my heart at ease."

He replied: "Even now I am at that work, O king —
to cast discord into the religion of Jesus."

XXI. The Twelve Chiefs

The Christian people had among them — caught up in turmoil —
rulers: ten chiefs and two more.

Each faction followed its own chief,
enslaved to its leader out of greed.

These ten and these two chiefs, with all their people,
became captives of that ill-starred vizier.

All their trust rested on his words.
All their conduct followed his example.

Before him at any hour, every chief
would have given his life had the vizier said: "Die."

XXII. The Twelve Conflicting Scrolls

He composed a scroll in the name of each chief —
each scroll drawn according to a different creed.

The rulings in each one were of a different kind —
each the opposite of the other, from end to end.

In one, the path was austerity and hunger —
repentance was the cornerstone, with return to God as the condition.

In another he said: "Austerity is of no use.
On this path there is no salvation except through generosity."

In another he said: "Your hunger and your generosity
are both idolatry before your God.

Nothing but trust — nothing but total surrender.
In sorrow and comfort, all else is cunning and a trap."

In another he said: "Service is obligatory.
Otherwise, the thought of trust is an accusation."

In another he said: "The commands and prohibitions exist
not for the doing, but as commentary on our helplessness —

so that we see our own powerlessness in them,
and in that moment know His power."

XXIII. The Oneness of Christ

He had no scent of Christ's unity.
He knew nothing of the temperament of Christ's vat.

A robe of a hundred colors, when plunged into that vat of purity,
becomes simple and single-hued, like the breeze.

This oneness is not the kind that breeds boredom —
rather, it is like the fish and clear water.

Though on dry land there are a thousand colors,
the fish wage war with dryness.

Who is the fish? What is the sea, in this metaphor,
that it should resemble the King, exalted and majestic?

A hundred thousand seas and fish, in all existence,
bow in prostration before that grace and generosity.

How many rains of gift have rained down
so that the sea has become a scatterer of pearls!

How many suns of kindness have blazed
so that cloud and sea have learned generosity!

The light of knowledge has struck the dust and clay
until the earth has become a receiver of seeds.

The earth is trustworthy: whatever you plant in it,
you harvest its kind without treachery.

This faithfulness comes from that greater faithfulness —
the sun of justice has shone upon it.

Until spring brings the sign of the Real,
the earth does not reveal its secrets.

That Generous One who gave to lifeless stone
these tidings, this trust, this uprightness —

His grace makes the stone aware.
His wrath makes the intelligent blind.

Soul and heart have not the strength for that ebullition.
To whom shall I speak? In the world there is not one ear.

Wherever there was an ear, it has become an eye through Him.
Wherever there was a stone, it has become jasper through Him.

He is the alchemist — what need of alchemy?
He is the miracle-giver — what need of magic?

This praise from me is the forsaking of praise,
for it is proof of existence — and existence is error.

Before His Existence, one must become nothing.
What is existence before Him? Blind and bruised.

Were it not blind, it would melt before Him.
It would recognize the heat of the Sun.

Were it not bruised with grief,
how would this realm be frozen like ice?

XXIV. The Power of God Against the Vizier

Like the king — foolish and heedless was the vizier,
wrestling with the Eternal, the Inescapable.

With so powerful a God who from nothingness
brings a hundred worlds into being with a single breath.

He shows a hundred worlds plainly in your sight
when He makes your eye capable of seeing through Him.

If the world before you seems vast and without foundation,
before His power, know it is not even a mote.

This world is the prison of your souls.
Rise up! Go to the open country that is yours.

This world is bounded. That one is without limit.
Form and image are a wall before that Meaning.

A hundred thousand spears of Pharaoh
were broken by Moses with a single staff.

A hundred thousand cures of Galen —
before Jesus and his breath, they were mockery.

A hundred thousand books of poetry —
before the word of the unlettered Prophet, they were shame.

Against so conquering a Lord,
how can a man not die — unless he is mere stubble?

Many a heart like a mountain has He shaken.
The clever bird He has snared by both feet.

Sharpening your wits and understanding is not the way.
The King's grace accepts only the broken.

How many treasure-hunters, digging in corners —
for that fantasizer, the ox's beard was all he found!

A woman turned yellow-faced from her evil deed —
God transformed her and made her the planet Venus.

To turn a woman into Venus — that was transformation.
To become dust and clay — is that not transformation, O stubborn one?

The spirit was carrying you toward the highest heaven.
You went to water and clay — to the lowest of the low.

You transformed yourself through this descent
from that existence which was the envy of the intellects.

So see how this transformation is —
before that transformation, this one is the lowest of the low.

The steed of the spirit was galloping toward the stars.
You did not recognize Adam, before whom all bowed.

After all, you are Adam's child, O degenerate!
How long will you mistake lowness for honor?

How long will you say: "I will conquer the world.
I will fill this world with myself."

If the world should fill with snow from end to end,
the heat of one glance of the Sun would melt it all.

The vizier, a hundred viziers, a hundred thousand —
God annihilates them all with a single spark.

The very substance of that illusion, He makes wisdom.
The very essence of that poison, He makes a sweet drink.

That which breeds doubt — He makes it certainty.
He grows love from the causes of hatred.

He nourishes Abraham in the fire.
He makes the spirit's safety from terror itself.

From His cause-burning, I am in ecstasy.
I am like a sophist lost in His imaginings.

XXV. The Vizier Retreats into Seclusion

The vizier wove yet another deceit.
He left off preaching and sat down in seclusion.

He cast a burning through longing into the disciples.
He was in seclusion forty, fifty days.

The people went mad with desire for him —
aching for his presence, his words, his taste.

They begged and lamented, while he
was bent double in seclusion from austerity.

They said: "We have no light without you.
How does a blind man fare without a staff?

For God's sake, for the sake of kindness,
do not keep us apart from you any longer.

We are like infants and you are our nurse.
Spread your shadow over us."

He said: "My spirit is not far from those who love.
But I have no permission to come out."

The chiefs came to intercede,
and the disciples came with reproach:

"What ill fortune is this for us, O generous one!
Without you, we are left orphan of heart and faith.

You make excuses, while we, from the pain,
breathe cold sighs from burning hearts.

We have grown accustomed to your sweet speech.
We have drunk the milk of your wisdom.

For God's sake, do not deal us this cruelty.
Do good today — do not put it off till tomorrow.

Does your heart not tell you that these heartbroken ones
will at last be ruined without you?

They are all flopping like fish on dry land.
Open the water from the stream — lift the dam.

O you whose like the age has never seen —
for God's sake, answer the cry of these people!"

XXVI. The Vizier Speaks of Silence

He said: "Beware, O you who are enslaved to words —
to sermons, to speech that seeks the ear.

Put cotton in the ear of the lower senses.
Remove the blindfold of sense from your eyes.

The cotton of the inner ear is the outer ear.
Until this one goes deaf, the inner ear stays deaf.

Become without senses, without ears, without thought,
so you may hear the call: 'Return!'

As long as you are in the talk of wakefulness,
how will you catch the scent of the speech of sleep?

Our outer words and deeds are the journey of the surface.
The journey within is above the sky.

The senses saw only dryness, being born of dryness.
The Jesus of the soul set foot upon the sea.

The journey of the dry body falls on dry land.
The journey of the soul set foot in the heart of the ocean.

Since your life has passed on the road of dryness —
now mountain, now sea, now plain —

where will you find the Water of Life?
Where will you break open the waves of the sea?

The waves of earth are our fancy, our reason, our thought.
The waves of water are self-effacement, intoxication, and annihilation.

As long as you are in this intoxication, you are far from that one.
As long as you drink from this cup, you are repelled by that.

Speech and discourse on the surface are like dust.
Be silent for a while. Be mindful."

XXVII. The People Plead Their Weakness

They all said: "O sage who seeks the breach,
do not speak to us of this deception and cruelty.

Lay on the pack-animal a load it can bear.
Assign the weak a task within their strength.

Every bird has seed according to its size.
A fig is not the food of every bird.

If you give bread to an infant instead of milk,
count that poor infant as dead from the bread.

When its teeth come in, then afterward
its own heart will seek bread of its own accord.

A bird whose feathers have not yet grown — how will it fly?
It becomes a morsel for every pouncing cat.

But when its feathers grow, it flies on its own —
without coercion, without any whistle, good or bad.

Your speech silences the demon.
Your words make our ears into awareness.

Our ear IS awareness when you are the speaker.
Our dryness IS the ocean when you are the sea.

With you, the dust is better than the sky.
O Arcturus, through you, all is bright down to the fish.

Without you, even the sky is darkness to us.
With you, O Moon, what is the sky at all?

The form of height belongs to the heavens.
The meaning of height belongs to the pure spirit.

The form of height is for bodies.
Bodies, before meaning, are merely names."

XXVIII. The Vizier Refuses

He said: "Cut short your arguments.
Let the counsel find its way into your soul and heart.

If I am trustworthy, no one suspects the trustworthy —
even if I call the sky the earth.

If I am perfect, why deny perfection?
And if I am not, why this trouble and this pain?

I will not come out from this seclusion,
for I am occupied with the affairs within."

XXIX. We Are Like the Harp

They all said: "O vizier, there is no denial.
Our words are not the words of strangers.

These are tears running from our eyes at your parting.
These are sighs rising from the depths of our souls.

A child does not contend with its nurse,
yet it weeps — though it knows neither good nor ill.

We are like the harp, and you strike the notes.
The lament is from us, but it is you who makes the lament.

We are like the flute, and the music in us is from you.
We are like the mountain, and the echo in us is from you.

We are like chess pieces in winning and losing.
Our winning and losing are from you, O Beautiful One.

Who are we, O You who are the Soul of our soul,
that we should stand between You and ourselves?

We are nothings — and our somethings
are You, the Absolute Existence, showing itself through mortality."

XXX. The Vizier's Farewell

The vizier called out from within:
"O disciples, let this be known from me:

Jesus has sent me this message:
'Be separate from all companions and kin.

Turn your face to the wall. Sit alone.
Even from your own existence, choose seclusion.'

After this, there is no permission for speech.
After this, I have no business with talk.

Farewell, O friends — I am dead.
I have carried my goods to the fourth heaven.

So that I do not burn beneath this wheel like kindling
in the fire of anguish and destruction.

From now on I sit beside Jesus
on the heights of the fourth heaven."

XXXI. The Twelve Scrolls Are Distributed

Then he summoned the chiefs one by one
and spoke to each in private, a separate word.

He said to each: "In this faith of Christ,
you are God's deputy and my successor.

The other chiefs are your followers.
Jesus has made them all your partisans.

Any chief who resists — seize him.
Either kill him or hold him captive.

But so long as I am alive, do not speak of this.
Until I die, do not seek this leadership.

Until I die, do not reveal this.
Do not claim kingship and dominion.

Here is this scroll and the decrees of Christ.
Read them one by one to the people with eloquence."

To each chief he spoke this way, separately:
"There is no deputy in God's faith but you."

He honored each one, one by one.
Whatever he said to that one, he said to this one too.

He gave each one a scroll —
each the opposite of the other in its purpose.

The contents of those scrolls were different,
as different as the shapes of letters — from ya to alif.

The decree of this scroll was the opposite of that.
This contradiction we have already described.

XXXII. The Death of the Vizier

After that, for forty days more he shut the door.
He killed himself and was released from his own existence.

When the people learned of his death,
his grave became a place of judgment day.

So many people gathered at his tomb —
tearing their hair, rending their garments in anguish —

that only God Himself could count their number,
from Arab and Turk and Roman and Kurd.

They cast his dust upon their heads.
In his pain they saw their own remedy.

For a month those multitudes upon his grave
let blood run from both their eyes.

XXXIII. The People Seek a Successor

After a month the people said: "O elders,
which of the chiefs should sit in his place?

Let us recognize him as our imam in his stead —
let us place our hands and our garments in his hand."

Since the sun has gone and left us with its scar,
there is no choice but a lamp to take its place.

Since our beloved's face has vanished from our sight,
we need a deputy as remembrance of him.

Since the rose has passed and the garden is ruined,
from where shall we find the rose's scent? From rosewater.

Since God does not come within sight,
these prophets are God's deputies.

No — I spoke wrong: for the deputy and the One he represents —
if you think them two, it is ugly, not good.

No, they are not two — so long as you worship form.
Before the one who has passed beyond form, they are one.

When you look at form, your eye sees two.
But look at the light from which the eye was born.

The light of both eyes cannot be distinguished
when a man looks into that light.

If ten lamps are present in a place,
each one is different in form from the other.

But the light of each cannot be told apart
when you turn your face toward the light alone.

If you count a hundred apples and a hundred quinces,
the hundred does not remain — they become one when you press them.

In the realm of meaning there are no divisions and no numbers.
In meaning there is no separation and no parts.

The union of friend with friends is sweet.
Seize the foot of meaning — for form is headstrong.

Melt the headstrong form with hardship
until beneath it you see the unity, like a treasure.

And if you do not melt it — His grace
will melt it itself, O my heart, my Lord.

He shows Himself to hearts.
He sews the dervish's patchwork cloak.

We were all one substance, spread out.
We were headless, footless — that Head we all were.

We were one gem, like the sun.
We were without knot, and pure as water.

When that pure light took on form,
number appeared, like the shadows of a battlement.

Demolish the battlement with catapults,
so that the difference may vanish from this company.

I would explain this further, from sheer fervor,
but I fear lest some mind might slip.

The subtleties are like a blade of steel —
if you have no shield, retreat.

Do not come before this diamond without armor,
for the sword has no shame in its cutting.

For this reason I have sheathed the sword,
so that the crooked reader may not read against the grain.

We return now to the completion of the story
and the faithfulness of the gathered righteous ones —

who, after this leader, rose up
and sought a deputy to stand in his place.

XXXIV. The War of the Scrolls — On the Laughing Pomegranate

One chief from among the chiefs stepped forward,
into the presence of that faithful company.

He said: "Behold — I am that man's deputy.
I am the vicar of Jesus in this age.

Here is this scroll — my proof.
This vicership, after him, belongs to me."

Another chief came out from ambush.
His claim to the succession was the same.

He too drew a scroll from under his arm,
and the fury of a Jew arose in both.

The other chiefs came, one by one, in a line,
each with sharpened swords drawn.

Each with a sword and a scroll in hand,
they fell upon each other like maddened elephants.

A hundred thousand Christian men were slaughtered,
till the severed heads were heaped into hills.

Blood flowed like a flood from left and right.
Mountain upon mountain of dust rose into the air.

The seeds of discord that the vizier had planted
had become the disaster of their heads.

Walnuts were cracked — but those that had a kernel
possessed, after the killing, a pure and precious spirit.

Killing and dying — which are upon the form of the body —
are like the breaking of pomegranates and apples.

Whatever is sweet becomes the pomegranate's ruby.
Whatever is rotten was nothing but noise.

What has meaning becomes plain of itself.
What is rotten is exposed.

Go — strive for meaning, O worshipper of form.
For meaning is the wing upon the body of form.

Keep the company of people of meaning,
so you may receive the gift and be a youth of spirit.

A soul without meaning in this body
is like a wooden sword in a sheath.

As long as it stays in the sheath, it has value.
Once drawn, it is only fuel for burning.

Do not take a wooden sword into battle.
Look first — lest the battle turn to grief.

If it is wooden, go — seek another.
If it is diamond, come forward with joy.

The sword is in the armory of the saints.
To see them is alchemy for you.

All the wise have said this, all of them:
"The wise man is a mercy for all the worlds."

If you buy a pomegranate, buy one that is laughing,
so that its laughter gives news of its seeds.

O blessed is its laughter — from its mouth
it shows the heart like a pearl from the casket of the soul.

Unblessed was the laughter of the tulip —
from its mouth the blackness of its heart was shown.

The laughing pomegranate makes the whole garden laugh.
The company of the men of God makes you a man of God.

Even if you are rock and marble,
when you reach one who has a heart, you become a gem.

Plant the love of the pure ones in the depths of your soul.
Give your heart to nothing but the love of the joyful-hearted.

Do not go to the lane of despair — there are hopes!
Do not go toward the darkness — there are suns!

The heart pulls you toward the lane of the people of heart.
The body drags you to the prison of water and clay.

Come — give the heart its food through kinship of heart.
Go seek good fortune from the fortunate.

Colophon

Good Works Translation from Classical Persian. Sections I-X were translated directly from the Ganjoor Persian text, with Nicholson's public-domain English consulted as a reference for obscure passages and rare vocabulary. Sections XII-XXXIV were translated directly from the Ganjoor Persian text without consulting an existing English translation during that work.

Persian source text from Ganjoor.net (ganjoor.net/moulavi/masnavi/daftar1/), accessed and verified March 2026. Ganjoor is the principal freely accessible digital archive of classical Persian literature; the Masnavi text follows the standard critical edition based on R.A. Nicholson's critical text of 1925. Included source ranges are sections 1-10 and 12-34 of Book I. Section 11 is not included here.

This public page consolidates two former publication-unit shards: The Masnavi — Book I.md and The Masnavi — Book I (Sections XII-XXXIV).md. The old components are preserved as provenance under _Archive/Publication Unit Rehousing 2026-06-30/Masnavi Book I Split/.

Compiled, translated, and formatted for the Good Works Library, 2026.

See also: Conference of the Birds by Farid ud-Din Attar · The Walled Garden of Truth by Sanai of Ghazna — Sanai -> Attar -> Rumi: the canonical triad of Persian Sufi poetry.

Source Texts

Source Text — دفتر اول مثنوی معنوی

بخش ۱ — نی‌نامه

بشنو این نی چون شکایت می‌کند
از جدایی‌ها حکایت می‌کند

کز نیستان تا مرا ببریده‌اند
در نفیرم مرد و زن نالیده‌اند

سینه خواهم شرحه شرحه از فراق
تا بگویم شرح درد اشتیاق

هر کسی کو دور ماند از اصل خویش
باز جوید روزگار وصل خویش

من به هر جمعیتی نالان شدم
جفت بدحالان و خوش‌حالان شدم

هر کسی از ظن خود شد یار من
از درون من نجست اسرار من

سر من از نالهٔ من دور نیست
لیک چشم و گوش را آن نور نیست

تن ز جان و جان ز تن مستور نیست
لیک کس را دید جان دستور نیست

آتش است این بانگ نای و نیست باد
هر که این آتش ندارد نیست باد

آتش عشق است کاندر نی فتاد
جوشش عشق است کاندر می فتاد

نی حریف هر که از یاری برید
پرده‌هایش پرده‌های ما درید

همچو نی زهری و تریاقی که دید
همچو نی دمساز و مشتاقی که دید

نی حدیث راه پرخون می‌کند
قصه‌های عشق مجنون می‌کند

محرم این هوش جز بیهوش نیست
مر زبان را مشتری جز گوش نیست

در غم ما روزها بیگاه شد
روزها با سوزها همراه شد

روزها گر رفت گو رو باک نیست
تو بمان ای آن که جز تو پاک نیست

هر که جز ماهی ز آبش سیر شد
هر که بی‌روزی‌ست روزش دیر شد

در نیابد حال پخته هیچ خام
پس سخن کوتاه باید والسلام

بخش ۲ — حکایت عاشق شدن پادشاهی بر کنیزکی

بشنوید ای دوستان این داستان
خود حقیقت نقد حال ماست آن

بود شاهی در زمانی پیش ازین
ملک دنیا بودش و هم ملک دین

اتفاقا شاه روزی شد سوار
با خواص خویش از بهر شکار

یک کنیزک دید شه بر شاه‌راه
شد غلام آن کنیزک پادشاه

مرغ جانش در قفس چون می‌طپید
داد مال و آن کنیزک را خرید

چون خرید او را و برخوردار شد
آن کنیزک از قضا بیمار شد

آن یکی خر داشت و پالان نداشت
یافت پالان گرگ خر را برگذاشت

آن یکی کوزه بدش و آبش نبود
آب را یافت کوزه‌اش بشکست زود

اختران از بس طبیبان جمع کرد
گفت جان هر دو در دست شماست

هر که دفع رنجش کرد از فنون
گنج و لعل و زر و مرجان ماست اون

جمله گفتند از هنرها بر زنیم
فکرها اندیشه‌ها تدبیر کنیم

هر یکی عیسای عصری بوده است
هر کفی ما را در او صحت رسید

از تکبر نگفتند ان شالله
پس خدا بنمودشان عجز بشر

هر چه کردند از علاج و از دوا
گشت رنج افزون و حاجت ناروا

آن کنیزک شد ز رنجوری چو مو
دیدهٔ شه از سرشک آمد چو جو

از قضا سرکنگبین صفرا فزود
روغن بادام خشکی می‌نمود

از هلیله قبض شد اطلاق رفت
آب آتش را مدد شد همچو نفت

بخش ۳ — رفتن پادشاه به مسجد و دعا کردن

شه چو عجز آن حکیمان را بدید
پابرهنه جانب مسجد دوید

رفت در مسجد سوی محراب شد
سجده‌گاه از اشک شه پر آب شد

چون به خویش آمد ز غرقاب فنا
خوش زبان بگشاد در مدح و دعا

کای کمینه بخششت ملک جهان
من چه گویم چون تو می‌دانی نهان

ای همیشه حاجت ما را پناه
بار دیگر ما غلط کردیم راه

لیک گفتی گرچه می‌دانم سرت
زود هم پیدا کنش بر ظاهرت

چون برآورد از میان جان خروش
اندر آمد بحر بخشایش به جوش

در میان گریه خوابش در ربود
دید در خواب او که پیری رو نمود

گفت بشارت که حاجاتت رواست
گر غریبی آیدت فردا خداست

چون رسد آن مرد او حاذق طبیب است
صادقش دان زانک او مردی امین است

سحر مطلق بین در افسون او
قدرت حق بین در ارکان او

چون رسید آن وعده و خورشید تافت
صبح صادق شد شه اندر خواب یافت

دید شخصی فاضلی می‌آمد از دور
آفتابی در میان سایه و نور

بخش ۴ — ادب

از خدا جوییم توفیق ادب
بی‌ادب محروم گشت از لطف رب

بی‌ادب تنها نه خود را داشت بد
بلکه آتش در همه آفاق زد

مایده از آسمان در می‌رسید
بی‌شری و بیع و بی‌گفت و شنید

در میان قوم موسی چند کس
بی‌ادب گفتند کو سیر و عدس

منقطع شد خوان و نان از آسمان
ماند رنج زرع و بیل و داسمان

باز عیسی چون شفاعت کرد حق
خوان فرستاد و غنیمت بر طبق

مائده از آسمان شد عائده
چون که گفت انزل علینا مائده

باز گستاخان ادب بگذاشتند
چون گدایان زله‌ها برداشتند

لابه کرده عیسی ایشان را که این
دایمست و کم نگردد از زمین

بدگمانی کردن و حرص آوری
کفر باشد پیش خوان مهتری

زان گدارویان نادیده ز آز
آن در رحمت بریشان شد فراز

ابر بر ناید پی منع زکات
وز زنا افتد وبا اندر جهات

هر چه بر تو آید از ظلمات و غم
آن ز بی‌باکی و گستاخیست هم

هر که بی‌باکی کند در راه دوست
ره‌زن مردان شد و نامرد اوست

از ادب پرنور گشته‌ست این فلک
وز ادب معصوم و پاک آمد ملک

بد ز گستاخی کسوف آفتاب
شد عزازیلی ز جرأت رد باب

بخش ۵ — آمدن آن ولی به بالین بیمار

دست بگشاد و کنارانش گرفت
همچو عشق اندر دل و جانش گرفت

دست و پیشانیش بوسیدن گرفت
وز مقام و راه پرسیدن گرفت

پرس‌پرسان می‌کشیدش تا به صدر
گفت گنجی یافتم آخر به صبر

گفت ای نور حق و دفع حرج
معنی الصبر مفتاح الفرج

ای لقای تو جواب هر سؤال
مشکل از تو حل شود بی‌قیل‌وقال

ترجمانی هرچه ما را در دل است
دستگیری هر که پایش در گل است

مرحبا یا مجتبی یا مرتضی
ان تغب جاء القضا ضاق الفضا

انت مولی القوم من لا یشتهی
قد ردی کلا لئن لم ینتهی

چون گذشت آن مجلس و خوان کرم
دست او بگرفت و برد اندر حرم

بخش ۶ — حکیم بالین بیمار رفتن

قصهٔ رنجور و رنجوری بخواند
بعد از آن در پیش رنجورش نشاند

رنگ روی و نبض و قاروره بدید
هم علاماتش هم اسبابش شنید

گفت هر دارو که ایشان کرده‌اند
آن عمارت نیست ویران کرده‌اند

بی‌خبر بودند از حال درون
استعیذ الله مما یفترون

دید رنج و کشف شد بر وی نهفت
لیک پنهان کرد و با سلطان نگفت

رنجش از صفرا و از سودا نبود
بوی هر هیزم پدید آید ز دود

دید از زاریش کاو زار دل است
تن خوشست و او گرفتار دل است

عاشقی پیداست از زاری دل
نیست بیماری چو بیماری دل

علت عاشق ز علتها جداست
عشق اصطرلاب اسرار خداست

عاشقی گر زین سر و گر زان سرست
عاقبت ما را بدان سر رهبرست

هرچه گویم عشق را شرح و بیان
چون به عشق آیم خجل باشم از آن

گرچه تفسیر زبان روشنگرست
لیک عشق بی‌زبان روشنترست

چون قلم اندر نوشتن می‌شتافت
چون به عشق آمد قلم بر خود شکافت

عقل در شرحش چو خر در گل بخفت
شرح عشق و عاشقی هم عشق گفت

آفتاب آمد دلیل آفتاب
گر دلیلت باید از وی رو متاب

سایه او داد بیگه گاه گاه
آفتاب آمد دلیل جاودان

بخش ۷ — کشف کردن حکیم دردِ کنیزک را

گفت ای شه خلوتی کن خانه را
دور کن هم خویش و هم بیگانه را

کس ندارد گوش در دهلیزها
تا بپرسم زین کنیزک چیزها

خانه خالی ماند و یک دیار نه
جز طبیب و جز همان بیمار نه

نرم‌نرمک گفت شهر تو کجاست
که علاج اهل هر شهری جداست

واندر آن شهر از قرابت کیستت
خویشی و پیوستگی با چیستت

دست بر نبضش نهاد و یک بیک
باز می‌پرسید از جور فلک

چون کسی را خار در پایش جهد
پای خود را بر سر زانو نهد

وز سر سوزن همی جوید سرش
ور نیابد می‌کند با لب ترش

خار در پا شد چنین دشواریاب
خار در دل چون بود وا ده جواب

خار در دل گر بدیدی هر خسی
دست کی بودی غمان را بر کسی

کس به زیر دم خر خاری نهد
خر نداند دفع آن برمی‌جهد

برجهد وان خار محکمتر زند
عاقلی باید که خاری برکند

خر ز بهر دفع خار از سوز و درد
جفته می‌انداخت صد جا زخم کرد

آن حکیم خارچین استاد بود
دست می‌زد جابجا می‌آزمود

زان کنیزک بر طریق داستان
باز می‌پرسید حال دوستان

با حکیم او قصه‌ها می‌گفت فاش
از مقام و خواجگان و شهر و باش

سوی قصه گفتنش می‌داشت گوش
سوی نبض و جستنش می‌داشت هوش

تا که نبض از نام کی گردد جهان
او بود مقصود جانش در جهان

دوستان و شهر او را برشمرد
بعد از آن شهری دگر را نام برد

گفت چون بیرون شدی از شهر خویش
در کدامین شهر بودستی تو بیش

نام شهری گفت و زان هم درگذشت
رنگ روی و نبض او دیگر نگشت

خواجگان و شهرها را یک بیک
باز گفت از جای و از نان و نمک

شهر شهر و خانه خانه قصه کرد
نه رگش جنبید و نه رخ گشت زرد

نبض او بر حال خود بد بی‌گزند
تا بپرسید از سمرقند چو قند

نبض جست و روی سرخ و زرد شد
کز سمرقندی زرگر فرد شد

چون ز رنجور آن حکیم این راز یافت
اصل آن درد و بلا را باز یافت

گفت کوی او کدام است در گذر
او سر پل گفت و کوی غاتفر

گفت دانستم که رنجت چیست زود
در خلاصت سحرها خواهم نمود

شاد باش و فارغ و آمن که من
آن کنم با تو که باران با چمن

من غم تو می‌خورم تو غم مخور
بر تو من مشفقترم از صد پدر

هان و هان این راز را با کس مگو
گرچه از تو شه کند بس جست و جو

خانهٔ اسرار تو چون دل شود
آن مرادت زودتر حاصل شود

گفت پیغامبر که هر که سر نهفت
زود گردد با مراد خویش جفت

دانه چون اندر زمین پنهان شود
سر او سرسبزی بستان شود

زر و نقره گر نبودندی نهان
پرورش کی یافتندی زیر کان

وعده‌ها و لطفهای آن حکیم
کرد آن رنجور را آمن ز بیم

وعده‌ها باشد حقیقی دلپذیر
وعده‌ها باشد مجازی تاسه‌گیر

وعدهٔ اهل کرم گنج روان
وعدهٔ نااهل شد رنج روان

بخش ۸ — عرض کردن رنج پیش پادشاه

بعد از آن برخاست و عزم شاه کرد
شاه را زان شمه‌ای آگاه کرد

گفت تدبیر آن بود کان مرد را
حاضر آریم از پی این درد را

مرد زرگر را بخوان زان شهر دور
با زر و خلعت بده او را غرور

بخش ۹ — فرستادن پادشاه رسولان به سمرقند

شه فرستاد آن طرف یک دو رسول
حاذقان و کافیان بس عدول

تا سمرقند آمدند آن دو امیر
پیش آن زرگر ز شاهنشه بشیر

کای لطیف استاد کامل معرفت
فاش اندر شهرها از تو صفت

نک فلان شه از برای زرگری
اختیارت کرد زیرا مهتری

اینک این خلعت بگیر و زر و سیم
چون بیایی خاص باشی و ندیم

مرد مال و خلعت بسیار دید
غره شد از شهر و فرزندان برید

اندر آمد شادمان در راه مرد
بی‌خبر کان شاه قصد جانش کرد

اسپ تازی برنشست و شاد تاخت
خونبهای خویش را خلعت شناخت

این جهان کوه است و فعل ما ندا
سوی ما آید نداها را صدا

بخش ۱۰ — پرسیدن از قضا در باب حکمت کشتن

کشتن آن مرد بر دست حکیم
نه پی اومید بود و نه ز بیم

او نکشتش از برای طبع شاه
تا نیامد امر و الهام اله

آن پسر را کش خضر ببرید حلق
سر آن را در نیابد عام خلق

آنک از حق یابد او وحی و جواب
هرچه فرماید بود عین صواب

آنک جان بخشد اگر بکشد رواست
نایبست و دست او دست خداست

همچو اسماعیل پیشش سر بنه
شاد و خندان پیش تیغش جان بده

تا بماند جانت خندان تا ابد
همچو جان پاک احمد با احد

عاشقان آنگه شراب جان کشند
که به دست خویش خوبانشان کشند

Source Text: متن فارسی مثنوی — دفتر اول (بخش ۱۲–۳۴)

Persian source text from Ganjoor.net (ganjoor.net/moulavi/masnavi/daftar1/), accessed and verified March 2026. Ganjoor is the principal freely accessible digital archive of classical Persian literature; the Masnavi text follows the standard critical edition based on R.A. Nicholson's critical text of 1925. Sections 12–34 (بخش ۱۲ through بخش ۳۴) presented as individual couplets for readability.

بخش ۱۲ — داستان آن پادشاه جهود کی نصرانیان را می‌کشت از بهر تعصب

بود شاهی در جُهودان ظلم‌ساز
دشمنِ عیسی و نصرانی گُداز

عهدِ عیسی بود و نوبتْ آنِ او
جانِ موسی او و موسی جانِ او

شاهِ اَحْوَل کرد در راهِ خدا
آن دو دَمسازِ خدایی را جدا

گفت استادْ اَحْوَلی را کَاندَر آ
رو بُرون آر از وِثاق آن شیشه را

گفت اَحوَل: زان دو شیشه من کدام
پیشِ تو آرَم؟ بکُن شرحِ تمام

گفت استاد: آن، دو شیشه نیست، رو
اَحوَلی بگذار و افزون‌ْبین مشو

گفت: ای اُستا، مرا طعنه مزن
گفت اُستا: زان دو، یک را دَر شکن

چون یکی بشکست، هر دو شد ز چشم
مَرد، اَحوَل گردد از مَیلان و خشم

شیشه یک بود و به چشمش دو نمود
چون شکست او شیشه را، دیگر نبود

خشم و شَهوَت مرد را احوَل کند
ز استقامت روح را مُبْدَل کند

چون غَرَض آمد، هنر پوشیده شد
صد حجاب از دل به سوی دیده شد

چون دهد قاضی به دل رُشْوَت قرار
کی شناسد ظالم از مظلومِ زار

شاه، از حِقْدِ جُهودانه چنان
گشت اَحوَل، کَالْاَمانْ یا رَب اَمان

صد هزاران مؤمنِ مظلوم کُشت
که پناهم دینِ موسی را و پُشت

بخش ۱۳ — آموختن وزیر مکر پادشاه را

او وزیری داشت گَبْر و عِشوِه دِه
کو بَر آبْ از مَکر بَر بَستی گِرِه

گفت: تَرسایان پناهِ جان کُنند
دینِ خْوَد را از مَلِک پنهان کنند

کم کُش ایشان را، که کشتنْ سود نیست
دینْ ندارد بویْ، مُشک و عود نیست

سِرّ پنهانست اندر صد غِلاف
ظاهرش با تُست و باطن بَر خِلاف

شاه گفتش: پس بگو تَدبیر چیست؟
چارهٔ آن مَکر و آن تَزْویر چیست؟

تا نمانَد در جهان نصرانیی
نی هُوَیدا دین و نه پنهانیی

گفت: ای شَه، گوش و دستم را ببُر
بینی‌ام بشکاف و لب در حُکمِ مُر

بعد از آن در زیرِ دار آور مرا
تا بخواهد یک شفاعت‌گر مرا

بر مُنادی‌گاه کُن این کارْ تو
بر سرِ راهی که باشد چارسو

آنگَهَم از خْوَد بِران تا شهرِ دور
تا دَر اندازَم دَریشان شَرّ و شور

بخش ۱۴ — تلبیس وزیر با نصاری

پس بگویم من به سِر نصرانیم
ای خدای رازدان می‌دانیم

شاه واقف گشت از ایمان من
وز تعصب کرد قصد جان من

خواستم تا دین ز شه پنهان کنم
آنک دین اوست ظاهر آن کُنم

شاه بویی برد از اسرار من
متّهم شد پیش شه گفتار من

گفتْ گفتِ تو چو در نان سوزنست
از دل من تا دل تو روزنست

من از آن روزن بدیدم حال تو
حال تو دیدم ننوشم قال تو

گر نبودی جان عیسی چاره‌ام
او جهودانه بکردی پاره‌ام

بهر عیسی جان سپارم سَر دهم
صد هزاران منّتش بر خود نهم

جان دریغم نیست از عیسی ولیک
واقفم بر علمِ دینش نیک‌نیک

حیف می‌آمد مرا کان دینِ پاک
درمیان جاهلان گردد هلاک

شکر ایزد را و عیسی را که ما
گشته‌ایم آن کیش حق را ره‌نما

از جهود و از جهودی رَسته‌ایم
تا به زنّاری میان را بسته‌ایم

دور دورِ عیسیَست ای مردمان
بشنوید اسرارِ کیش او بجان

کرد با وی شاه آن کاری که گفت
خلق حیران مانده زان مِکرِ نهفت

راند او را جانب نَصرانیان
کرد در دعوت شروع او بعد از آن

بخش ۱۵ — قبول کردن نصاری مکر وزیر را

صد هزاران مرد ترسا سوی او
اندک‌اندک جمع شد در کوی او

او بیان می‌کرد با ایشان به راز
سِرّ انگلیون و زنّار و نماز

او به ظاهر واعظ اَحکام بود
لیک در باطن صفیر و دام بود

بهر این بعضی صَحابه از رسول
مُلتمِس بودند مکرِ نفسِ غول

کو چه آمیزد ز اغراض نهان
در عبادتها و در اخلاصِ جان

فضلِ طاعت را نجُستَندی ازو
عیب ظاهر را بجُستندی که کو

مو به مو و ذرّه ذره مکرِ نَفس
می‌شناسیدند چون گُل از کرفس

موشکافانِ صحابه هم در آن
وعظِ ایشان خیره گشتندی بجان

بخش ۱۶ — متابعت نصاری وزیر را

دل بدو دادند ترسایان تمام
خود چه باشد قوّت تقلیدِ عام

در درون سینه مِهرش کاشتند
نایبِ عیسیش می‌پنداشتند

او به سِر دجّال یک چشم لعین
ای خدا فریاد رَس نعم المُعین

صد هزاران دام و دانه‌ست ای خدا
ما چو مرغانِ حریص بی‌نوا

دم بدم ما بستهٔ دام نویم
هر یکی گر باز و سیمرغی شویم

می‌رهانی هر دمی ما را و باز
سوی دامی می‌رویم ای بی‌نیاز

ما درین انبار گندم می‌کنیم
گندم جمع آمده گُم می‌کنیم

می‌نیندیشیم آخر ما بهوش
کین خلل در گندمست از مکر موش

موش تا انبارِ ما حفره زدست
وز فنش انبار ما ویران شدست

اوّل ای جان دفع شَرِّ موش کن
وانگهان در جمع گندم جوش کن

بشنو از اخبار آن صدر الصّدور
لا صَلوةَ تَمَّ اِلّا بِالحُضور

گر نه موشی دزد در انبار ماست
گندم اعمالِ چل ساله کجاست

ریزه‌ریزه صدقِ هر روزه چِرا
جمع می‌ناید درین انبار ما

بس ستارهٔ آتش از آهن جهید
وان دل سوزیده پذرفت و کشید

لیک در ظلمت یکی دزدی نهان
می‌نهد انگشت بر استارگان

می‌کُشد استارگان را یک به یک
تا که نفروزد چراغی از فلک

گر هزاران دام باشد در قَدم
چون تو با مایی نباشد هیچ غم

چون عنایاتت بود با ما مقیم
کی بود بیمی از آن دزد لئیم

هر شبی از دام تن ارواح را
می‌رهانی می‌کَنی الواح را

می‌رهند ارواح هر شب زین قفس
فارغان نه حاکم و محکوم کَس

شب ز زندان بی‌خبر زندانیان
شب ز دولت بی‌خبر سُلطانیان

نه غم و اندیشهٔ سود و زیان
نه خیالِ این فلان و آن فلان

حالِ عارف این بود بی‌خواب هَم
گفت ایزد «هُمْ رُقودًٌ» زین مَرَم

خفته از احوال دنیا روز و شب
چون قلم در پنجهٔ تقلیبِ رَب

آنک او پنجه نبیند در رقم
فِعل پندارد بجنبش از قلم

شمّه‌ای زین حالِ عارف وا نمود
عقل را هم خواب حسّی در ربود

رَفته در صحرای بی‌چون جانشان
روحشان آسوده و ابدانشان

وز صفیری باز دام اندر کشی
جمله را در داد و در داوَر کشی

چونک نور صبحدم سَر بر زند
کرکس زرّین گردون پر زند

فالق الاِصباح اسرافیل‌وار
جمله را در صورت آرد زان دیار

روحهای منبسط را تن کند
هر تنی را باز آبستن کند

اسپ جانها را کُند عاری ز زین
سِرّ النَوْمُ اخُ المَوتست این

لیک بهر آنک روز آیند باز
بر نهد بر پایشان بندِ دراز

تا که روزش واکشد زان مرغزار
وز چراگاه آردش در زیرِ بار

کاش چون اصحاب کهف این روح را
حفظ کردی یا چو کشتی نوح را

تا ازین طوفانِ بیداری و هوش
وا رهیدی این ضمیر و چشم و گوش

ای بسی اصحابِ کهف اندر جهان
پهلوی تو پیش تو هست این زمان

یار با او غار با او در سُرود
مُهر بر چشمست و بر گوشت چه سود

بخش ۱۷ — قصهٔ دیدن خلیفه لیلی را

گفت لیلی را خلیفه، کان توی؟
کز تو مجنون شد پریشان و غَوی؟

از دگر خوبان تو افزون نیستی!
گفت: خامش، چون تو مجنون نیستی

هر که بیدارست او در خواب‌تر
هست بیداریش از خوابش بتر

چون بحق بیدار نبود جانِ ما
هست بیداری چو در بندان ما

جان همه روز از لگدکوب خیال
وز زیان و سود وز خوفِ زوال

نی صفا می‌ماندش نی لطف و فَر
نی به سوی آسمان راهِ سفر

خفته آن باشد که او از هر خیال
دارد اومید و کند با او مَقال

دیو را چون حور بیند او به خواب
پس ز شهوت ریزد او با دیو آب

چونک تخم نسل را در شوره ریخت
او به خویش آمد خیال از وی گریخت

ضعفِ سر بیند از آن و تن پلید
آه از آن نقش پدید ناپدید

مرغ بر بالا و زیر آن سایه‌اش
می‌دود بر خاک پرّان مرغ‌وش

ابلهی صیّاد آن سایه شود
می‌دود چندانکه بی‌مایه شود

بی‌خبر کان عکسِ آن مرغ هواست
بی‌خبر که اصل آن سایه کجاست

تیر اندازد به سوی سایه او
ترکشش خالی شود از جست و جو

ترکش عُمرش تهی شد عمر رفت
از دویدن در شکارِ سایه تَفت

سایهٔ یزدان چو باشد دایه‌اش
وا رهاند از خیال و سایه‌اش

سایهٔ یزدان بود بنده‌یْ خدا
مرده او زین عالم و زنده‌یْ خدا

دامن او گیر زوتر بی‌گمان
تا رهی در دامن آخر زمان

«کَيۡفَ مَدَّ ٱلظِّلَّ» نقشِ اولیاست
کو دلیل نورِ خورشیدِ خداست

اندرین وادی مرو بی این دلیل
«لَآ أُحِبُّ ٱلۡأٓفِلِين» گو چون خلیل

رو ز سایه آفتابی را بیاب
دامنِ شه شمس تبریزی بتاب

ره ندانی جانب این سور و عُرس
از ضیاء الحق حسام الدّین بپرس

ور حسد گیرد ترا در رَه گلو
در حسد ابلیس را باشد غُلو

کو ز آدم ننگ دارد از حسد
با سعادت جنگ دارد از حسد

عَقبه‌ای زین صعب‌تر در راه نیست
ای خُنک آنکِش حسد همراه نیست

این جسد خانه‌یْ حسد آمد بدان
از حسد آلوده باشد خاندان

گر جسد خانه‌یْ حسد باشد ولیک
آن جسد را پاک کرد الله نیک

«طَهِّرَا بَيْتِي» بیانِ پاکی است
گنجِ نورست ار طلسمش خاکی است

چون کُنی بر بی‌حسد مکر و حسد
زان حسد دل را سیاهی‌ها رسد

خاک شو مردانِ حق را زیر پا
خاک بر سر کن حسد را همچو ما

بخش ۱۸ — بیان حسد وزیر

آن وزیرک از حسد بودش نژاد
تا به باطل گوش و بینی باد داد

بر امید آنکِ از نیش حسد
زهر او در جان مسکینان رسد

هر کسی کو از حسد بینی کند
خویش را بی‌گوش و بی بینی کند

بینی آن باشد که او بویی بَرد
بوی او را جانب کویی بَرد

هر که بویش نیست بی بینی بود
بوی آن بویست کان دینی بود

چونک بویی بُرد و شکر آن نکرد
کفر نعمت آمد و بینیش خورد

شکر کن مر شاکران را بنده باش
پیش ایشان مُرده شو پاینده باش

چون وزیر از ره‌زنی مایه مساز
خلق را تو بر میاور از نماز

ناصح دین گشته آن کافر وزیر
کرده او از مکر در گوزینه سیر

بخش ۱۹ — فهم کردن حاذقان نصاری مکر وزیر را

هر که صاحب‌ذوق بود‌، از گفتِ او
لذتی می‌دید و تلخی جُفت او

نکته‌ها می‌گفت او آمیخته
در جُلابِ قند زهری ریخته

ظاهرش می‌گفت ‌در ره چُست شو‌
وز اثر می‌گفت جان را ‌سُست شو‌

ظاهر نُقره گر اسپید‌ست و نو
دست و جامه می‌سیه گردد ازو

آتش ار چه سرخ‌روی‌ست از شرر
تو ز فعل او سیه‌کار‌ی نگر

برق اگر نوری نماید در نظر
لیک هست از خاصیت دُزدِ بصر

هر که جز آگاه و صاحب‌ذوق بود
گفتِ او در گردن او‌ طوق بود

مدّتی شش سال در هجرانِ شاه
شد وزیر‌ اَتباع‌ِ عیسی را پناه

دین و دل را کُل بدو بسپرد خلق
پیش امر و حکمِ او می‌مُرد خلق

بخش ۲۰ — پیغام شاه پنهان با وزیر

در میانِ شاه و او پیغام‌ها
شاه را پنهان بدو آرام‌ها

آخر‌الامر از برای آن مُراد
تا دهد چون خاک ایشان را به باد

پیشِ او بنوشت شه کای مُقبلم
وقت آمد‌ زود فارغ کن دلم

گفت اینک اندر آن کارم شها
کافکنم در دین عیسی فتنه‌ها

بخش ۲۱ — بیان دوازده سبط از نصاری

قوم عیسی را بُد اندر دار و گیر
حاکمانْشان دَه امیر و دو امیر

هر فَریقی مَر امیری را تبع
بنده گشته میر‌ِ خود را از طمع

این دَه و این دو امیر و قومشان
گشته بَند‌ِ آن وزیر بَد نشان

اعتمادِ جمله بر گفتارِ او
اقتدای جمله بر رفتارِ او

پیش او در وقت و ساعت هر امیر
جان بدادی گر بدو گفتی بمیر

بخش ۲۲ — تخلیط وزیر در احکام انجیل

ساخت طوماری به نام هر یکی
نقش هر طومار‌ْ دیگر مَسلکی

حُکم‌های هر یکی نوعی دگر
این خلاف‌ِ آن ز پایان تا به‌ سَر

در یکی راهِ ریاضت را و جوع
رکن توبه کرده و شرط رجوع

در یکی گفته ریاضت سود نیست
اندرین ره مَخلَصی جز جود نیست

در یکی گفته که جوع و جود تو
شِرک باشد از تو با معبود تو

جز توکّل جز که تسلیمِ تمام
در غم و راحت همه مکر‌ست و دام

در یکی گفته که واجب خدمتست
ور نه اندیشهٔ توکّل‌ تُهمتَست

در یکی گفته که امر و نهی‌هاست
بهر کردن نیست‌، شرحِ عجزِ ماست

تا که عجزِ خود بینیم اندر آن
قدرت او را بدانیم آن زمان

بخش ۲۳ — در بیان آنک این اختلافات در صورت روش است نی در حقیقت راه

او ز یک رنگیّ عیسی بو نداشت
وز مزاج خمّ عیسی خو نداشت

جامهٔ صد رنگ از آن خمِّ صفا
ساده و یک‌رنگ گشتی چون ضیا

نیست یک‌رنگی کزو خیزد ملال
بل مثال ماهی و آب زلال

گرچه در خشکی هزاران رنگهاست
ماهیان را با یُبوسَت جنگهاست

کیست ماهی چیست دریا در مثل
تا بدان مانَد مَلِک عزَّ و جَل

صد‌هزاران بحر و ماهی در وجود
سجده آرد پیش آن اکرام و جود

چند بارانِ عطا باران شده
تا بدانْ آن بحر دُرّ افشان شده

چند خورشیدِ کرَم افروخته
تا که ابر و بحر جود آموخته

پرتو دانش زده بر خاک و طین
تا که شد دانه پذیرنده زمین

خاکْ امین و هر چه در وی کاشتی
بی‌خیانت جنسِ آن برداشتی

این امانت زان امانت یافتست
کآفتابِ عدل بر وی تافتست

تا نشانِ حق نیارد نوبهار
خاکْ سِرها را نکرده آشکار

آن جوادی که جمادی را بداد
این خبرها وین امانت وین سَداد

مر جمادی را کند فضلش خبیر
عاقلان را کرده قهرِ او ضریر

جان و دل را طاقتِ آن جوش نیست
با که گویم در جهان یک گوش نیست

هر کجا گوشی بُد از وی چشم گشت
هر کجا سنگی بُد از وی یَشم گشت

کیمیاسازست چه‌بود کیمیا
معجزه بخش است چه‌بود سیمیا

این ثنا گفتن ز من ترکِ ثناست
کین دلیلِ هستی و هستی خطاست

پیشِ هستِ او بباید نیست بود
چیست هستی پیش او کور و کبود

گر نبودی کور زو بگداختی
گرمی خورشید را بشناختی

ور نبودی او کبود از تعزیَت
کی فسردی همچو یخ این ناحیَت

بخش ۲۴ — بیان خسارت وزیر درین مکر

همچو شه نادان و غافل بد وزیر
پنجه می‌زد با قدیم ناگزیر

با چنان قادر خدایی کز عدم
صد چو عالم هست گرداند بدم

صد چو عالم در نظر پیدا کند
چونک چشمت را به خود بینا کند

گر جهان پیشت بزرگ و بی‌بنیست
پیش قدرت ذره‌ای می‌دان که نیست

این جهان خود حبس جانهای شماست
هین روید آن سو که صحرای شماست

این جهان محدود و آن خود بی‌حدست
نقش و صورت پیش آن معنی سدست

صد هزاران نیزهٔ فرعون را
در شکست از موسیئ با یک عصا

صد هزاران طب جالینوس بود
پیش عیسی و دمش افسوس بود

صد هزاران دفتر اشعار بود
پیش حرف امیی‌اش عار بود

با چنین غالب خداوندی کسی
چون نمیرد گر نباشد او خسی

بس دل چون کوه را انگیخت او
مرغ زیرک با دو پا آویخت او

فهم و خاطر تیز کردن نیست راه
جز شکسته می‌نگیرد فضل شاه

ای بسا گنج آگنان کنج‌کاو
کان خیال‌اندیش را شد ریش گاو

گاو که بود تا تو ریش او شوی
خاک چه بود تا حشیش او شوی

چون زنی از کار بد شد روی زرد
مسخ کرد او را خدا و زهره کرد

عورتی را زهره کردن مسخ بود
خاک و گل گشتن نه مسخست ای عنود

روح می‌بردت سوی چرخ برین
سوی آب و گل شدی در اسفلین

خویشتن را مسخ کردی زین سفول
زان وجودی که بد آن رشک عقول

پس ببین کین مسخ کردن چون بود
پیش آن مسخ این به غایت دون بود

اسپ همت سوی اختر تاختی
آدم مسجود را نشناختی

آخر آدم‌زاده‌ای ای ناخلف
چند پنداری تو پستی را شرف

چند گویی من بگیرم عالمی
این جهان را پر کنم از خود همی

گر جهان پر برف گردد سربسر
تاب خور بگدازدش با یک نظر

وزر او و صد وزیر و صدهزار
نیست گرداند خدا از یک شرار

عین آن تخییل را حکمت کند
عین آن زهراب را شربت کند

آن گمان‌انگیز را سازد یقین
مهرها رویاند از اسباب کین

پرورد در آتش ابراهیم را
ایمنی روح سازد بیم را

از سبب سوزیش من سوداییم
در خیالاتش چو سوفسطاییم

بخش ۲۵ — مکر دیگر انگیختن وزیر در اضلال قوم

مکر دیگر آن وزیر از خود ببست
وعظ را بگذاشت و در خلوت نشست

در مریدان در فکند از شوق، سوز
بود در خلوت چهل پنجاه روز

خلق دیوانه شدند از شوقِ او
از فراقِ حال و قال و ذوقِ او

لابه و زاری همی کردند و او
از ریاضت گشته در خلوت دوتو

گفته، ایشان نیست ما را بی تو نور
بی عصاکش چون بود احوالِ کور

از سَرِ اکرام و از بهر خدا
بیش ازین ما را مدار از خود جدا

ما چو طفلانیم و ما را دایه تو
بر سر ما گستران آن سایه تو

گفت جانم از مُحِبّان دور نیست
لیک بیرون آمدن دستور نیست

آن امیران در شفاعت آمدند
وان مریدان در شَناعت آمدند

کین چه بدبختیست ما را ای کریم
از دل و دین مانده ما بی تو یتیم

تو بهانه می‌کنی و ما ز دَرد
می‌زنیم از سوزِ دل دمهای سرد

ما به گفتار خوشت خو کرده‌ایم
ما ز شیر حکمتِ تو خورده‌ایم

الله الله این جفا با ما مکن
خیر کن امروز را فردا مکن

می‌دهد دل مر ترا کین بی‌دلان
بی تو گردند آخر از بی‌حاصلان

جمله در خشکی چو ماهی می‌طپند
آب را بگشا ز جو بر دار بند

ای که چون تو در زمانه نیست کس
الله الله خلق را فریاد رس

بخش ۲۶ — دفع گفتن وزیر مریدان را

گفت هان ای سُخرگانِ گفت و گو
وعظ و گفتار زبان و گوشْ جو

پنبه اندر گوشِ حِسِّ دون کنید
بندِ حسّ از چشم خود بیرون کنید

پنبهٔ آن گوشِ سِرّ، گوشِ سَرست
تا نگردد این کَر آن باطن کَرست

بی‌حس و بی‌گوش و بی‌فکرت شوید
تا خطاب أرْجِعی را بشنوید

تا به گفت و گوی بیداری دَری
تو زگفت خوابْ بویی کی بَری

سِیرِ بیرونیست قول و فعل ما
سیرِ باطن هست بالای سَما

حسْ خشکی دید، کز خشکی بزاد
عیسی جان پای بر دریا نهاد

سِیرِ جسمِ خشک بر خشکی فتاد
سیرِ جانْ پا در دلِ دریا نهاد

چونک عمر اندر ره خشکی گذشت
گاه کوه و گاه دریا گاه دشت

آبِ حیوان از کجا خواهی تو یافت
موجِ دریا را کجا خواهی شکافت

موج خاکی وهم و فهم و فکرِ ماست
موج آبی محو و سُکرست و فناست

تا درین سُکری، از آن سُکری تو دور
تا ازین مستی از آن جامی نفور

گفت و گوی ظاهر آمد چون غبار
مدّتی خاموش خو کن، هوش‌دار

بخش ۲۷ — مکر کردن مریدان کی خلوت را بشکن

جمله گفتند ای حکیمِ رخنه‌جو
این فریب و این جفا با ما مگو

چارپا را قدر طاقت بارْ نِهْ
بر ضعیفان قدر قوّت کارْ نِهْ

دانهٔ هر مرغ اندازهٔ ویَست
طعمهٔ هر مرغْ انجیری کِیَست

طفل را گر نان دهی بر جای شیر
طفلِ مسکین را از آن نانْ مُرده گیر

چونک دندانها بر آرد، بعد از آن
هم بخود گردد دلش جویای نان

مرغِ پَر نارُسته چون پرّان شود
لقمهٔ هر گربهٔ درّان شود

چون بر آرد پر، بپرّد او بخوَد
بی‌تکلّف بی‌صفیرِ نیک و بَد

دیو را نطقِ تو خامش می‌کند
گوشِ ما را گفتِ تو هُش می‌کند

گوش ما هوشست چون گویا توی
خشک ما بحرست چون دریا توی

با تو ما را خاک بهتر از فلک
ای سِماک از تو منوَّر تا سَمَک

بی‌تو ما را بر فلک تاریکیَست
با تو ای ماه این فلک باری کیَست

صورتِ رِفعت بود افلاک را
معنی رِفعت روانِ پاک را

صورت رِفعت برای جسمهاست
جسمها در پیش معنی اسمهاست

بخش ۲۸ — جواب گفتن وزیر کی خلوت را نمی‌شکنم

گفت حجت‌های خود کوته کنید
پند را در جان و در دل ره کنید

گر اَمینم، متهم نبوَد امین
گر بگویم آسمان را من زمین

گر کمالم، با کمال اِنکار چیست
ور نیَم، این زحمت و آزار چیست

من نخواهم شد ازین خلوت برون
زانک مشغولم باحوال درون

بخش ۲۹ — اعتراض مریدان در خلوت وزیر

جمله گفتند ای وزیر انکار نیست
گفتِ ما چون گفتنِ اغیار نیست

اشکِ دیده‌ست از فراقِ تو دوان
آهِ آه‌ست از میان جان روان

طفل با دایه نه استیزد ولیک
گرید او گرچه نه بَد داند نه نیک

ما چو چنگیم و تو زخمه می‌زنی
زاری از ما نه تو زاری می‌کنی

ما چو ناییم و نوا در ما ز توست
ما چو کوهیم و صدا در ما ز توست

ما چو شطرنجیم اندر بُرد و مات
بُرد و مات ما ز توست ای خوش صفات

ما که باشیم ای تو ما را جانِ جان
تا که ما باشیم با تو درمیان

ما عدم‌هاییم و هستی‌های ما
تو وجودِ مُطلقی فانی‌نُما

ما همه شیران ولی شیر عَلم
حمله‌شان از باد باشد دم‌به‌دم

حمله‌شان پیدا و ناپیداست باد
آنک ناپیداست هرگز گُم مباد

بادِ ما و بودِ ما از دادِ توست
هستی ما جمله از ایجادِ توست

لذّت هستی نمودی نیست را
عاشق خود کرده بودی نیست را

لذّت انعامِ خود را وا مگیر
نُقل و باده و جامِ خود را وا مگیر

ور بگیری کیت جُست و جو کند
نقش با نقّاش چون نیرو کند

منگر اندر ما مکن در ما نظر
اندر اِکرام و سخای خود نگر

ما نبودیم و تقاضامان نبود
لطفِ تو ناگفتهٔ ما می‌شنود

بخش ۳۰ — نومید کردن وزیر مریدان را از رفض خلوت

آن وزیر از اندرون آواز داد
کای مریدان از من این معلوم باد

که مرا عیسی چنین پیغام کرد
کز همه یاران و خویشان باش فَرد

روی در دیوار کن تنها نشین
وز وجود خویش هم خلوت گُزین

بعد ازین دستوریِ گفتار نیست
بعد ازین با گفت و گویم کار نیست

الوَداع ای دوستان من مُرده‌ام
رخت بر چارم فلک‌ بَر بُرده‌ام

تا به زیر چرخ ناری چون حَطَب
من نسوزم در عَنا و در عَطب

پهلوی عیسی نشینم بعد ازین
بر فرازِ آسمانِ چارمین

بخش ۳۱ — ولی عهد ساختن وزیر هر یک امیر را جداجدا

وانگهانی آن امیران را بخواند
یک‌بیک تنها بهر یک حرف راند

گفت هر یک را بدین عیسوی
نایب حقّ و خلیفهٔ من توی

وان امیران دگر، اتباع تو
کَرد عیسی جمله را اشیاع تو

هر امیری کو کِشد گردن، بگیر
یا بکُش یا خود همی دارش اسیر

لیک تا من زنده‌ام این وا مگو
تا نمیرم این ریاست را مجو

تا نمیرم من تو این پیدا مکن
دعوی شاهی و استیلا مکن

اینک این طومار و احکام مسیح
یک بیک بر خوان تو بر امت فصیح

هر امیری را چنین گفت او جدا
نیست نایب جز تو در دین خدا

هر یکی را کرد او یک‌یک عزیز
هرچه آن را گفت این را گفت نیز

هر یکی را او یکی طومار داد
هر یکی ضدّ دگر بود المراد

متن آن طومارها بُد مختلف
همچو شکل حرفها یا تا الف

حکم این طومار ضد حکم آن
پیش ازین کردیم این ضد را بیان

بخش ۳۲ — کشتن وزیر خویشتن را در خلوت

بعد از آن چل روز دیگر در ببست
خویش کشت و از وجود خود برست

چونک خلق از مرگ او آگاه شد
بر سر گورش قیامتگاه شد

خلق چندان جمع شد بر گور او
مو کنان جامه‌دران در شور او

کان عدد را هم خدا داند شمرد
از عرب وز ترک و از رومی و کرد

خاک او کردند بر سرهای خویش
درد او دیدند درمان جای خویش

آن خلایق بر سر گورش مهی
کرده خون را از دو چشم خود رهی

بخش ۳۳ — طلب کردن امت عیسی علیه‌السلام از امرا کی ولی عهد از شما کدامست

بعد ماهی خلق گفتند ای مهان
از امیران کیست بر جایش نشان

تا به جای او شناسیمش امام
دست و دامن را به دست او دهیم

چونک شد خورشید و ما را کرد داغ
چاره نبود بر مقامش از چراغ

چونک شد از پیش دیده وصل یار
نایبی باید ازومان یادگار

چونک گل بگذشت و گلشن شد خراب
بوی گل را از که یابیم از گلاب

چون خدا اندر نیاید در عیان
نایب حق‌اند این پیغامبران

نه غلط گفتم که نایب با منوب
گر دو پنداری قبیح آید نه خوب

نه دو باشد تا توی صورت‌پرست
پیش او یک گشت کز صورت برست

چون به صورت بنگری چشم تو دوست
تو به نورش در نگر کز چشم رست

نور هر دو چشم نتوان فرق کرد
چونک در نورش نظر انداخت مرد

ده چراغ ار حاضر آید در مکان
هر یکی باشد بصورت غیر آن

فرق نتوان کرد نور هر یکی
چون به نورش روی آری بی‌شکی

گر تو صد سیب و صد آبی بشمری
صد نماند یک شود چون بفشری

در معانی قسمت و اعداد نیست
در معانی تجزیه و افراد نیست

اتحاد یار با یاران خوشست
پای معنی‌گیرْ، صورت سرکشست

صورتِ سرکش گُدازان کُن برَنج
تا ببینی زیر او وحدت چو گنج

ور تو نگدازی عنایتهای او
خود گدازد ای دلم مولای او

او نماید هم به دلها خویش را
او بدوزد خرقهٔ درویش را

منبسط بودیم یک جوهر همه
بی‌سر و بی پا بدیم آن سر همه

یک گهر بودیم همچون آفتاب
بی گره بودیم و صافی همچو آب

چون بصورت آمد آن نور سره
شد عدد چون سایه‌های کنگره

گنگره ویران کنید از منجنیق
تا رود فرق از میان این فریق

شرح این را گفتمی من از مری
لیک ترسم تا نلغزد خاطری

نکته‌ها چون تیغ پولادست تیز
گر نداری تو سپر وا پس گریز

پیش این الماس بی اسپر میا
کز بریدن تیغ را نبود حیا

زین سبب من تیغ کردم در غلاف
تا که کژخوانی نخواند برخلاف

آمدیم اندر تمامی داستان
وز وفاداری جمع راستان

کز پس این پیشوا بر خاستند
بر مقامش نایبی می‌خواستند

بخش ۳۴ — منازعت امرا در ولی عهدی

یک امیری زان امیران پیش رفت
پیش آن قومِ وفا اندیش رفت

گفت اینک نایبِ آن مرد من
نایبِ عیسی منم اندر زَمَن

اینک این طومارْ برهانِ منست
کین نیابت بعد ازو آن منست

آن امیر دیگر آمد از کمین
دعوی او در خلافت بُد همین

از بغل او نیز طوماری نمود
تا برآمد هر دو را خشمِ جهود

آن امیرانِ دگر یک‌یک قطار
برکشیده تیغهای آبدار

هر یکی را تیغ و طوماری به دست
درهم افتادند چون پیلانِ مست

صد هزاران مردِ تَرسا کُشته شد
تا ز سَرهای بریده پُشته شد

خون روان شد همچو سیل از چپ و راست
کوه کوه اندر هوا زین گَردْ خاست

تخم‌های فتنه‌ها کو کِشته بود
آفت سَرهای ایشان گَشته بود

جوزها بشکست و آن کان مغز داشت
بَعد کُشتن روحِ پاکِ نغز داشت

کُشتن و مُردن که بر نقشِ تنست
چون انار و سیب را بشکَستنست

آنچ شیرینست او شد ناردانگ
وانک پوسیده‌ست نبود غیرِ بانگ

آنچ با معنیست خود پیدا شود
وانچ پوسیده‌ست او رسوا شود

رو بمعنی کوش ای صورت‌پرست
زانك معنی بر تنِ صورت‌ پُرست

همنشین اهل معنی باش تا
هم عطا یابی و هم باشی فتیٰ

جان بی‌معنی درین تن بی‌خلاف
هست همچون تیغ چوبین در غلاف

تا غلاف اندر بود باقیمتست
چون برون شد سوختن را آلتست

تیغ چوبین را مبَر در کارزار
بنگر اوّل تا نگردد کارْ زار

گر بود چوبین برو دیگر طلب
ور بود الماس پیش آ با طرب

تیغ در زرّادخانهٔ اولیاست
دیدن ایشان شما را کیمیاست

جمله دانایان همین گفته همین
هست دانا رحمةَ للعالمین

گر اناری می‌خری خندان بخَر
تا دهد خنده ز دانهٔ او خبر

ای مبارک خنده‌اش کو از دهان
می‌نماید دلْ چو دُرّ از دُرجِ جان

نامبارک خندهٔ آن لاله بود
کز دهانِ او سیاهی دل نمود

نارِ خندان باغ را خندان کند
صحبت مردانَت از مردان کند

گر تو سنگِ صَخره و مرمر شوی
چون به صاحب دل رسی گوهر شوی

مهرِ پاکان درمیان جان نشان
دل مده الّا به مِهر دلخوشان

کوی نومیدی مَرو اومیدهاست
سوی تاریکی مرو خورشیدهاست

دل ترا در کوی اهلِ دل کشد
تن ترا در حبس آب و گل کشد

هین غذای دل بِده از همدلی
رو بجو اقبال را از مُقبلی

Source Colophon

Persian source text from Ganjoor.net (ganjoor.net/moulavi/masnavi/daftar1/), accessed and verified March 2026. Sections 1-10 and 12-34 of Book I are presented as individual couplets for readability. Section 11 is not included in this public page.