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THE HAFT PAIKAR
(
Invocation to God.
)
O Thou from whom the universe exists, before whom naught that being has has been!
Beginning of all things when things began, and at the end the End of everything!
O Raiser of the lofty sphere, of stars Illumer, of their meetings Orderer!
Author of (all) the stores of bounteous gifts, of all existent things Creative Power!
Through Thee are well disposed the affairs of all, O All Thyself and Author (too) of all!
Thou art; and there is nothing like to Thee—those who are wise regard Thee only thus.
To men of insight Thou art manifest, (though) not in form but by Thy giving form.
All beings by (the principle of) life have life, but this Thy Being gives alone
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O Maker of the universe from naught, Giver of sustenance and Cherisher!
Thy name, of all names the Beginning, is the first Beginning and the latest End.
First of the First Thou if we reckon back; Last of the Last, too, at the end of things.
By Thee the being of all (things) is formed; to Thee is the return of all, to Thee
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To Thy sublimity thought has no path, decadence’ dust can never touch Thy door.
Thou wast not born, (all) others have been born; Thou, Thou art God, (all) others are (but) air
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The way Thou showest by a single thought; and dost by one fine point facilitate
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But he whose head’s unfit to bow in prayer, his door is fastened up by lock on lock.
Thou makest dawn illuminer of night, bird to the day, and food to bird Thou giv’st
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Unto the sun and moon Thou hast consigned two (lofty) tents (in colour) white and black
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Both day and night are travellers on Thy path, they wear the ring of bondage at Thy court
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They do nor good nor ill till Thou command; no act perform on their authority
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Thou hast enkindled in the brain (the light of) intellect, more shining than a lamp.
But yet with all its keenness ’tis (confined) to its own place, ’tis senseless as to Thee
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The intellect breaks down
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upon Thy path; life passes off in efforts to approach
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The soul’s a substance, and ’tis in our frame, (but yet) no person knows where is its place;
Thou art no substance, and Thou hast no place; how can distraught conjecture reach to Thee?
Thou art a Guide, there is no guide to Thee; in every place art Thou, but hast no place
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We who are of the seven heavens a part, with Thee are outside, outside of the seven
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The Universal Intellect attains to Thee, yet still through awe looks not at Thee
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O Thou, whose helpful favour is required (in turn) by shining day and dusky night,
Thou (only) art the Alterer of states in every mode
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, save Thee none alter states.
Until Thou willest, good or ill is not; by his own essence no one’s being is.
Thou bringest from and giv’st to stone and clay the fire-hued ruby, and the ruby’s fire
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The world, the sky which round the world revolves, before Thy door cry out (to men), Hold off
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!
A painter on Thy canvas every one, but all are naught, (all) deeds are done by Thee
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How from the stars should good and ill arise, when they are helpless before good and ill
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?
If the stars gave good fortune Kai-Qubād would have been born of an astrologer
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What man who in the stars is learned finds the way by reckoning to a treasure hid
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?
Without an intermediary Thou giv’st treasure to him who knows not seven from five.
All fine particulars which touch the stars, with every subtle point of science known
I’ve read, and sought the secret of each page; when Thee I found I washed the pages clean
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I saw the faces of all turned to God; I saw Thee as that God above all (else).
Thou by Whom lives each (soul) where soul there be, Whose oven gives each (loaf) where loaf there be,
Make me by being at Thy door upraised, make me dependent not on people’s doors.
Without the means of others give me bread, O Thou Who givest food to all who live.
Since in my youth from Thee and from Thy door I went not to the door of any one,
All to my door did’st Thou (vouchsafe to) send—I did not ask, (but) Thou didst (always) give.
Since I have (now) become old at Thy Court, give me Thy help from that which one should fear
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What words (are these)? these words are ill-conceived; if Thou art mine the world entire is mine.
Thou canst deliver from the world’s affairs bewildered me; deliver me (I pray).
To whom should I complain? the Helper, Thou. Accept me, for Thou art He who accepts.
Though many hidden secrets there may be, the secret of no one from Thee is hid
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.
’Tis best that I from Thee my object seek
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; ’tis best that I to Thee address my words.
E’en if through Thee this aim I gain not, still with no self-interest I’ll accord with Thee.
If I discourse of secrets to the world I meet with scorn, but honour, if to Thee
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Since at Thy door Nizāmī has arrived, drive him to no one’s door away from Thee.
In lordship give his mind exaltitude by giving him the diadem, content
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;
Till at the time the work is brought to light, he be the wearer of a crown though poor
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.
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