بخش 1 - قلندر جره باز سمانها

Qalandar is a white falcon of the skies, heavy things weigh light on his wings;

Translation: Nizamuddin

he never hovers round nests, for the whole bluish span of the skies is his hunting ground.

Translation: Nizamuddin

The song Allah is He issued forth from my soul, and spread all around, like dirt from my life’s apparel;

Translation: Nizamuddin

hold the instrument from my hands, for its strings have dropped down, like my tear, by the burning of the plectrum.

Translation: Nizamuddin

I pulsated like a tear, in the heart of Nature, I pulsated—till I reached her eyes;

Translation: Nizamuddin

my radiance can be seen from her eyelashes, for I barely drop on the grass leaves.

Translation: Nizamuddin

To me logic smells of un‐ripeness, its reasoning betrays signs of weakness;

Translation: Nizamuddin

two verses from the Master of Rum or from Jami open for me the gates closed in my face.

Translation: Nizamuddin

Come and have from my hands that old (wine) that imparts soul to the cup’s clay;

Translation: Nizamuddin

if you water the tulip’s branch from my flask, it would grow up to man’s stature.

Translation: Nizamuddin

In my hands I hold the same old violin, Full of plaintive songs with many melodies.

But I play it with the claws of a lion, For its strings are made of gut as hard as rock.

Tell the Parvizes of the present age on my behalf: I’m no Farhad to take up an axe;

Translation: Nizamuddin

by a thorn that has sunk into my breast one can pierce the heart of hundred Behistun.

Translation: Nizamuddin

I am a fakir, my whole asset is my insight, to me other people’s mountain appears as a straw;

Translation: Nizamuddin

take it from me: graveyard’s crow is better than a falcon accustomed to a king’s hand.

Translation: Nizamuddin

I never shut my heart’s door on anybody, nor do I turn my back on friends and relatives;

Translation: Nizamuddin

I made my nest in my breast and lived happily under heaven’s canopy.

Translation: Nizamuddin

No position of honour do I have in this garden, neither robe nor cap do I possess;

Translation: Nizamuddin

the gardener calls me ill‐mannered, for I bestowed sight to the narcissus’ eyes.

Translation: Nizamuddin

Two hundred sages spoke in this assembly, Their words more delicate than jasmine petals.

But tell me, who is that keen-sighted man Who saw a thorn and spoke of the garden?

I’m not acquainted with the secrets of art, yet I gave a new value to poetry;

Translation: Nizamuddin

my songs and lamentations have lightened the burden of the old aged people of the caravan.

Translation: Nizamuddin

Don’t you think, I’m a bird of morning song knowing nothing but lamentations and bewailing;

Translation: Nizamuddin

don’t spurn my guidance, you will find the key to the garden in my nest.

Translation: Nizamuddin

The world is only a passage for me; amidst a thousand wayfarers, none is my boon companion;

Translation: Nizamuddin

I’ve passed by crowd of dear ones, None is stranger than one’s own kith and kin.

Translation: Nizamuddin

Learn to live in spit of many mishaps, learn to highlight your values and worth;

Translation: Nizamuddin

throw yourself in the ocean of my song, and learn to settle down like a pearl in my storm.

Translation: Nizamuddin

I was raised long ago in this earthly place, But I do not care for my home.

I owe my very life to its bountiful moisture, But the earth is not my sky.

Perhaps you’re unaware—unless you enter into rapport with a man— that hearts become alive through his breath;

Translation: Nizamuddin

he doesn’t give bent to lamentations, for man’s grief knows control and composure.

Translation: Nizamuddin

Develop insight, look to the soul within the body, see on the bough jessamine yet to grow;

Translation: Nizamuddin

otherwise like an arrow in the bow, see the target through archer’s eye.

Translation: Nizamuddin

Intellect is unaware of certainty’s delight; is a bad companion, prostitution true wisdom;

Translation: Nizamuddin

two hundred Bu Hamids and Razis are not worth a simpleton that knows the Way.

Translation: Nizamuddin

What are fine linen, rubies and pearls? what are handsome slaves and golden girdle?

Translation: Nizamuddin

what are as free of the two worlds as God Himself? what else is the asset of the people of skill?

Translation: Nizamuddin

Khudi’s intoxication of I‐ness is the essence of sobriety, my tavern therefore is not so noisy;

Translation: Nizamuddin

my wine, though not pure, yet you drink it: it is the residue of yesterday’s wine jar.

Translation: Nizamuddin

You are busy with your cup and dress, I discovered the Beloved’s smell by myself;

Translation: Nizamuddin

my whole asset consists of this one word of flute, I need neither pulpit’s wood nor that of gallows.

Translation: Nizamuddin

When I noticed my own mirror’s essence, I retreated to the solitude of my breast;

Translation: Nizamuddin

I took with me my old grief and ran away from intellectuals, blind and lacking in taste.

Translation: Nizamuddin

When I packed up to leave this earth, Everyone said, ‘We knew him!’

But no one knew what this traveller said, And to whom‐and where he had come from.