Chehel Asrar 10 - Tenth Ghazal

Ghazal 10

8 couplets  |  Riaz 1991, printed p. 453

 

اَرْبابِ ذَوْق دَر غَمِ تُو آرَمِیدِه‌اَنْد

arbāb-e zowq dar gham-e to āramīde-and

1a  Those who know spiritual savor have found rest in sorrow for you;

اَز شادِی و نَعِیمِ دُو عالَم رَهِیدِه‌اَنْد

az shādī o naʿīm-e do ʿālam rahīde-and

1b  they have escaped the pleasures and delights of both worlds.

Commentary on couplet 1

The speaker describes a company whose repose lies in sorrow for the beloved. Their freedom from the delights of both worlds follows from this unexpected resting place: love has changed what counts as satisfaction. Zowq, taste or savor, suggests knowledge acquired through encounter, so these people recognize a value that ordinary calculations of pleasure overlook. Their sorrow sustains a relationship rather than merely obstructing happiness. A close parallel appears in the Darwīshiyya printed under Hamadani’s name: it distinguishes renouncing this world for the next from the seeker’s relinquishment of both, and describes freedom from anxiety over their fortunes.[1] This supports a reading of love beyond reward, while the work’s attribution requires the qualification recorded below.

The lovers are introduced through a settled condition: they have come to rest in the very sorrow that would ordinarily disturb rest. The second half makes their release from both worlds depend on this transformed attachment. Here zowq, experiential “taste,” identifies the people by what they have apprehended, rather than by an office or outward affiliation. The later return to a single taste in couplet 6 makes this opening word a structural clue. Sorrow need not mean permanent emotional anguish: within the verse, it names the beloved’s continuing claim upon them. This interpretation follows the poem’s contrasts; it does not independently establish a doctrine in Hamadani’s prose.

حُورانِ خُلْد را بِه پَشِیزِی نَمِی‌خَرَنْد

hūrān-e khold rā be pashīzī namī-kharand

2a  They would not pay a penny for the houris of paradise

تا اَز صَفایِ حُسْنِ تُو رَمْزِی شَنِیدِه‌اَنْد

tā az safā-ye hosn-e to ramzī shenīde-and

2b  since hearing a hint of your beauty’s purity.

Commentary on couplet 2

The lovers’ refusal to spend even a small coin on paradise’s houris gives the opening claim a deliberately startling measure. A mere hint of the beloved’s beauty has outweighed delights that might otherwise seem beyond price. They have heard a ramz, an intimation, rather than secured full possession of that beauty; the disproportion magnifies its attraction. In devotional terms, the desired relationship takes precedence over the benefits it might bring. Qur’an 9:72 offers a related hierarchy by promising gardens while declaring God’s good pleasure greater.[2] This is a thematic comparison, not a quotation from the verse. The poem’s extravagant refusal dramatizes a changed desire; it need not be made into a literal denial of the promised gifts.

The lovers have heard only an intimation of beauty, yet paradise has already lost its purchasing power. Hearing and beauty cross sensory categories: what might be expected to appear to sight reaches them as a ramz, a sign whose significance exceeds its explicit statement. This makes their response depend on partial disclosure, not complete knowledge. In this context tā supports the supplied “since,” linking the changed valuation to that encounter. Qur’an 9:72 places divine good pleasure above the promised gardens, providing a useful devotional comparison without identifying the poem’s beloved conclusively. The verse leaves the beloved’s identity unstated; its language can carry both the intensity of human affection and a religious reading. ^[5]

پالُودِهٔ شِکَنْجِهٔ عِشْق‌اَنْد زان سَبَب

pālūde-ye shekanje-ye ʿeshq-and zān sabab

3a  They have been purified by love’s torment; that is why

زِ آلُودِگانِ جِیفِهٔ دُنْیا بُرِیدِه‌اَنْد

ze ālūdegān-e jīfe-ye donyā borīde-and

3b  they have broken with those stained by this world’s carrion.

Commentary on couplet 3

Love’s torment has purified these people, and their separation from corrupting company follows as its consequence. Pālūde, purified, answers ālūdegān, the stained: the sound brings cleansing and contamination into a sharp opposition. The image of carrion makes worldly acquisitiveness seem repellent rather than nourishing. A related comparison occurs in Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 2957a, where an unwanted animal carcass illustrates worldly insignificance; the ghazal does not quote that report directly.[3] Its own emphasis falls on breaking an attachment that compromises the lovers’ orientation. The severity of its social distinction should remain audible, without turning a poetic portrait into a general instruction to despise people. Likewise, torment describes love’s costly transformation, not a prescription to inflict suffering on oneself or others.

The first half describes cleansing through love; the second gives that cleansing a social consequence. The answering sounds of pālūde and ālūdegān make the distinction between purification and contamination audible. Jīfe, carrion, gives the world a repellent material image, but the object of withdrawal is those represented as stained by it. The verse therefore draws a severe boundary around the lovers’ company without supplying a systematic account of matter or creation. Its force should not be softened into mere lifestyle preference. Equally, the image does not establish that all created existence is intrinsically evil. Muslim 2957a offers a related carcass comparison, while any direct literary dependence remains unproved. ^[6]

Additional couplet from Kashmiri manuscripts:

مُرْغَانِ مَعْنِی رَا بِه دُو کَوْنْ اِلْتِفَاتْ نِیسْتْ

morghān-e maʿnī rā be do kown eltefāt nīst

The birds of the spirit give neither world a glance,

تَا دَرْ فَضَایِ شَوْقِ تُو رُوزِی پَرِیدِه‌اَنْدْ

tā dar fazā-ye showq-e to rūzī parīde-and

since the day they took flight in the sky of longing for You.

Commentary on additional couplet 

The couplet presents longing for the Beloved as an experience that changes what the heart desires. These “birds” have tasted a freedom that neither worldly attractions nor the rewards of the hereafter can replace. Their attention remains with the Beloved.

The choice of «مرغانِ معنی» is especially expressive. The poet imagines beings whose life belongs to inward understanding as birds capable of flight. “Birds of the spirit” communicates this gracefully, although “birds of inward reality” would preserve the sense of معنی more explicitly.

«شوقِ تو» means “longing for You” in this reading. The Persian linking construction can express different relationships, but the context supports taking the Beloved as the object of their longing. Capitalizing You signals a divine interpretation of that Beloved.

Read alongside the previous couplet, the imagery becomes particularly vivid: «خانقاهِ صُوَر», the confined lodge of forms, stands against «فضایِ شوق», the open expanse of longing. The birds’ flight expresses release from those confines and a new orientation of the heart

The birds’ lack of interest in either world is explained by an earlier flight into longing. Grammatically, rā helps express whose attention is at issue: “as for the birds of inward meaning, there is no regard for the two worlds.” It does not make the birds the object of an unstated action. Maʿnī can suggest inward meaning or reality; “spirit” is an interpretive translation, not a separate Persian word here. Rūzī allows “one day” or “once,” emphasizing an encounter whose effects endure. In the present ordering, the lodge image follows this couplet. The differently worded manuscript fragment retained below cannot independently confirm this complete reading.

اَز ضِیْقِ خانْقاهِ صُوَر خِرْقِهٔ وُجُود

az zīq-e khānqāh-e sovar kherqe-ye vojūd

4a  From the cramped lodge of forms, the cloak of their existence

بَر طارَمِ حَظایِرِ قُدْسِی کِشِیدِه‌اَنْد

bar tāram-e hazāyer-e qodsī keshīde-and

4b  they have raised to the roof of the sacred precincts.

Variant reading found in Kashmiri manuscripts:

بَرْ طَارَمِ مَنَابِرِ قُدْسِی کِشِیدِه‌اَنْدْ

bar tāram-e manāber-e qodsī keshīde-and

4b  —they have raised to the canopy of the sacred pulpits.

Commentary on couplet 4

A cloak is lifted out of a cramped lodge and raised toward sacred heights. The line division suspends the cloak of existence between the place it leaves and the place it reaches, allowing the reader to feel the movement. Khānqāh names a Sufi lodge, while its qualification by forms makes outward confinement central to this particular image. The contrast invites a distinction between wearing a spiritual identity and realizing its inward purpose. Darwīshiyya criticizes impostors who wear the garments of God’s friends while remaining governed by appetite.[1] That documented parallel supports scrutiny of spiritual appearance. The poem’s expansive architecture need not condemn every lodge or established practice; its lifted cloak pictures a freedom that spiritual appearance alone cannot confer. 

They have raised the cloak of their being from the cramped lodge of forms to the canopy of the sacred pulpits. The central image is a movement from confinement to spiritual elevation. The poet brings together objects associated with religious life: a lodge, a dervish’s cloak, and sacred pulpits. The lodge of outward forms has become too narrow; the cloak of existence is drawn upward to a sacred height.

In a Sufi interpretation, I would understand «خرقهٔ وجود» as their finite, individual existence, imagined as a garment. The ascent suggests passing beyond the limitations of identifying oneself solely with outward form. The sacred pulpits may additionally suggest elevated stations from which spiritual truth is expressed, although that is an interpretation of the image rather than its literal wording.

Grammatically, «خرقهٔ وجود» is what they raise. The Persian does not explicitly say that they discard or destroy the cloak, so a translation such as “they have cast off their existence” would go beyond the wording. Likewise, “their” is supplied in English; the Persian literally says “the cloak of being.”

The lovers raise the cloak of existence from constriction toward a sacred height; the second half completes the suspended action of the first. Both supplied readings preserve that movement, but their architecture differs. Hazāyer evokes precincts or enclosures, whereas manāber evokes pulpits, potentially introducing the association of elevated speech. Neither reading is established here as the manuscript’s correct word. The cloak remains the object being raised: the verb does not itself say that existence is destroyed. A spiritual interpretation may understand liberation from confinement to outward forms, while the image alone does not assert identity between the lover and God. Its ascent is poetic expression before it becomes a metaphysical proposition.

اَز نازِ یار و مِحْنَتِ اَغْیار فارِغَنْد

az nāz-e yār o mehnat-e aghyār fāregh-and

5a  They are free of the beloved’s coyness and the torment of strangers,

چُون دَر سُرادِقاتِ جَلالَش رَسِیدِه‌اَنْد

chūn dar sorādeqāt-e jalāl-ash rasīde-and

5b  for they have reached the pavilions of his majesty.

Commentary on couplet 5 

Arrival in the beloved’s majestic pavilions releases the lovers from two familiar pressures: the beloved’s withholding and the trouble caused by others. Yār and aghyār set intimacy against those outside it, while nāz gives the beloved an elusive freedom that the lover cannot command. The pavilion image replaces exposure to these fluctuations with admission to an imposing presence. Jalāl, majesty, evokes overwhelming greatness; reaching its precincts does not necessarily imply understanding or possessing everything within them. Their freedom can be read as a changed relation to alternating favor and difficulty. This helps preserve the opening paradox: sorrow for the beloved can remain, even when the anxious bargaining for relief has loosened its hold. The verse describes release within attachment, not simple indifference.

The lovers’ arrival brings relief from an intimate difficulty and an external one: the beloved’s nāz and the mehnat associated with aghyār. Nāz can convey an attractive self-possession or withholding as well as coyness; aghyār can include outsiders or rivals, not only unfamiliar people. Together they evoke the pressures surrounding a lover’s dependence. The pavilions of jalāl, majesty, replace that exposed condition with a sense of admission. The suffix in jalāl-ash supplies possession without grammatical gender, so the supplied “his” represents an English choice. In a devotional reading, arrival describes spiritual nearness or changed awareness; it need not make divine majesty a physical place that contains God.

دَر مَجْلِسِ شُهُود نِشَسْتِه مُلُوک‌وار

dar majles-e shohūd neshaste molūk-vār

6a  Seated like kings in the gathering of direct vision,

ذَوْقِی زِ جامِ اُنْس بِصَد جان خَرِیدِه‌اَنْد

zowqī ze jām-e ons be-sad jān kharīde-and

6b  they have bought one taste of intimacy’s cup with a hundred lives.

Commentary on couplet 6

The lovers sit with royal dignity, yet their wealth consists in a taste purchased at the cost of a hundred lives. This reverses the earlier bargain: paradise’s pleasures were refused for a penny, while intimacy is worth everything. Shohūd means witnessing, here an immediate apprehension of presence; ons names the ease and closeness of intimacy. The cup makes that closeness something tasted, without requiring a literal drinking scene. An Akbarian comparison sharpens the distinction between presence and possession: Ibn ʿArabi’s Kitāb al-fanāʾ explicitly warns that witnessing does not mean encompassing God.[4] The lovers’ kingliness can therefore express freedom from lesser demands, while the immense price prevents it from becoming an image of effortless entitlement.

The gathering gives the lovers composure, while the purchase reveals what that composure costs. Zowqī is a taste, with an indefinite ending that keeps the portion small even as the price becomes immeasurable. The singular taste answers the opening community of those who know savor. Shohūd may name immediate witnessing, but translating it as “direct vision” need not imply ordinary eyesight or exhaustive comprehension. The cup supplies a sensory form for ons, intimate familiarity; the verse does not specify its contents. A comparative limit is available in Ibn ʿArabi’s treatise: divine witnessing does not encompass its object. That distinction illuminates the image without proving either borrowing or Hamadani’s particular intention. ^[7]

جان را بِباد دادِه و دِل پایْمالِ عِشْق

jān rā be-bād dāde o del pāymāl-e ʿeshq

7a  They have cast their lives to the wind and left their hearts beneath love’s feet,

جِلْبابِ نام و پَرْدِهٔ دَعْوا دَرِیدِه‌اَنْد

jelbāb-e nām o parde-ye daʿvā darīde-and

7b  tearing the cloak of reputation and the veil of pretension.

Commentary on couplet 7

Royal composure is now shown from its costly underside: lives are scattered, hearts lie under love’s feet, and respectable coverings are torn. The garments of reputation and pretension expose a concern with how spiritual identity is displayed and defended. Daʿvā is a claim; paired with reputation, it suggests assertions that protect the self’s importance. The verse’s violence gives surrender emotional force, but its figurative sequence does not instruct physical destruction. A possible connection is fanā, understood here as the effacement of self-assertion before God. In a relevant comparison, Ibn ʿArabi describes worship released from calculating reward while retaining obligatory and customary prophetic actions.[4] Giving up the claim to spiritual possession can thus coexist with disciplined service; the torn veil reveals the inadequacy of boasting.

The lovers’ exposure is completed by their tearing what once covered them: reputation and the claim to importance. Nām means name, but its pairing with daʿvā makes reputation or standing especially pertinent; the verse need not mean abolishing every personal name or distinction. The torn garments are different from the cloak raised in couplet 4, so the two images should not be collapsed into one act of annihilation. Fanā, the passing away of self-assertion in a relevant spiritual reading, remains an interpretive term rather than the couplet’s own vocabulary. Ibn ʿArabi’s discussion of devotion beyond calculated recompense still retains obligatory and customary prophetic practice, making surrender compatible with continuing responsibility. ^[7]

بَر بُویِ مِهْرِ تُسْت عَلایِی رَهِینِ غَم

bar bū-ye mehr-e tost ʿAlāʾī rahīn-e gham

8a  In hope of your love, ʿAlāʾī is held captive by sorrow,

کِین دَوْلَت اَز اَزَل بِگُلْشَن دَر دَمِیدِه‌اَنْد

k-īn dowlat az azal be-golshan dar damīde-and

8b  for this good fortune was made to blossom in the garden from eternity.

Commentary on couplet 8

The closing name brings the portrait of the lovers into the speaker’s own predicament: ʿAlāʾī remains pledged to sorrow in hope of the beloved’s love. Bar bū-ye carries the sense of hoping for something while retaining the suggestion of scent, fitting a fulfillment still approached through a trace. The second half calls this captivity good fortune and makes it flower from azal, beginningless eternity. The final verb’s plural form leaves its subject unspecified in the supplied wording. Darwīshiyya similarly speaks of primordial divine care accepting the seeker within a path that still involves guidance and discipline.[1] The parallel relates attainment to primordial favor. The ending returns to sorrow without cancelling repose: longing itself has become the sign of an unearned attachment.

The closing couplet names ʿAlāʾī within the condition attributed to the lovers: sorrow binds him, yet he understands that bond as fortune. Mehr allows love or affection here; bar bū-ye joins hope to the suggestion of a scent, preparing for the garden in the next half. The compressed k-īn introduces an explanation, “for this,” while the blossoming image transforms captivity into an unexpected gift. Az azal locates its source beyond an ordinary beginning; it does not by itself establish that an individual soul shares God’s beginninglessness. The plural verb leaves agency unstated in the supplied text. The signature situates the poetic voice but cannot independently settle the work’s attribution.

Understanding this ghazal

This ghazal praises people whose desires have been reordered by love. Addressing the beloved as ‘you,’ the speaker first describes them from the outside: they have found rest, withdrawn, risen, arrived, and paid the price of intimacy. The repeated completed actions give the portrait assurance, yet the final appearance of ʿAlāʾī changes its emphasis. The speaker is still held by sorrow and hope. That ending prevents the accomplished lovers from becoming merely a display of spiritual status; their life is measured by attachment to the beloved, rather than by a claim to have finished longing.

The poem’s valuations are deliberately disproportionate. A hint of beauty outweighs paradise’s delights, and one taste of intimacy warrants a hundred lives. These exchanges make ordinary bargaining inadequate, even while using its language. Similarly, sorrow becomes repose, captivity becomes good fortune, and those who surrender everything sit like kings. Such paradoxes describe a changed center of desire. They need not imply that suffering is intrinsically good or that created blessings are false. The relevant question is what finally holds the heart: the beloved, the benefits of devotion, or the self’s wish to be seen as spiritually distinguished.

Clothing and architecture give that question visible form. A cramped lodge yields to sacred heights and majestic pavilions; the cloak of existence is raised, while the coverings of reputation and pretension are torn. The two movements distinguish an enlargement of inward life from the protection of an impressive exterior. Darwīshiyya provides close parallels in its criticism of spiritual costume without corresponding conduct and its distinction between seeking the next world and relinquishing attachment to both worlds.[1] These connections support an ethical and devotional reading without reducing the poem to a program of institutional rejection. The couplets offer related views of transformation, rather than a mandatory order of stages.

The final garden also changes the terms of achievement. After the language of purification, ascent, and costly purchase, the speaker names a flowering that comes from eternity. Effort remains vivid, but cannot claim sole authorship of the attachment it serves. The return to sorrow completes the opening thought: repose is possible within longing when desire no longer depends entirely on securing its own reward. This ghazal’s particular generosity is to recognize good fortune in the heart’s enduring responsiveness, even while the beloved’s full answer remains beyond its command.

The ghazal’s central question is what becomes of desire when the beloved matters more than any return love might yield. Most of the poem speaks of “they,” a company viewed through its transformed attachments, while repeatedly turning toward “you.” The ending brings the name ʿAlāʾī into that relation. It offers no simple claim that longing has finished. The perfected actions of the lovers coexist with the speaker’s continuing captivity, making repose and desire companion conditions rather than successive stages.

The senses organize this attachment without producing a complete portrait of the beloved. A hint is heard, intimacy is tasted, presence is witnessed, and love is approached through the suggestion of fragrance. Each mode gives access while leaving something unpossessed. The additional bird couplet contributes another relation: flight changes the direction of attention. In this supplied arrangement, its open sky stands between the carrion image and the cramped lodge. That sequence creates a vivid contrast in the present reading, although an uninspected manuscript cannot establish the historical authority of this placement or wording.

Garments and buildings give inward conditions visible shapes. The cloak of existence rises, while the coverings of reputation and pretension are torn. These are distinct actions: the poem can imagine an enlargement of life alongside a surrender of claims about oneself. Its royal gathering, sacred height, and majestic pavilions need not map a fixed sequence of spiritual stations. The couplets resonate through repeated changes of value and orientation, with sorrow, expense, freedom, and sovereignty acquiring unexpected meanings in each setting.

A devotional interpretation is strongly available, but its availability does not verify authorship or turn every image into a technical statement. The supplied Darwīshiyya parallels await inspection of the cited edition in this preparation. The verified Ibn ʿArabi comparison helps preserve a distinction between intimacy and encompassing God; it does not supply the poem with an established doctrinal programme. The ending’s garden gathers the poem’s costly exchanges into an image of received flourishing. Its distinctive insight is that release from competing rewards can deepen attachment to the beloved without making that attachment a possession. ^[7]

Sources and textual notes

Editorial verification note

The supplied references [1]–[4] all lead to the same Blogger editing address. They are retained as received and do not provide access to the named sources. Working references [5]–[7] below support the newly verified comparisons. The Riaz pagination, Darwīshiyya attribution discussion, manuscript provenance, and comparison with Ghazal 9 remain supplied claims, not independently verified findings here. The retained sentence “No reading notes were supplied” belongs to the earlier material and does not describe this compilation, which contains variants and manuscript remarks.

Supplied sources and textual notes

The supplied Persian, transliteration, translation, numbering, edition citation, and closing name ʿAlāʾī are retained unchanged. No reading notes were supplied. The references below support the new commentary; they are contextual parallels and comparisons, not earlier explanations of this exact ghazal. The signature alone is not used to settle authorship.

1. Darwīshiyya, printed under Hamadani’s name in Muhammad Riaz, Aḥvāl o āsār o ashʿār-e Mīr Sayyid ʿAlī Hamadānī, second edition, Islamabad, 1991. Printed pp. 497–498 distinguish seeking the next world from relinquishing attachment to both worlds and describe freedom from anxiety over their fortunes. Printed p. 493 criticizes spiritual costume without corresponding conduct; p. 492 connects primordial divine care with a path involving guidance and discipline. These passages were checked against the scans. Riaz’s introduction, printed p. 486, defends Hamadani’s authorship against a competing attribution to Sayyid Muhammad Nurbakhsh; that qualification is retained here. Digitized Riaz edition.
2. Qur’an 9:72, al-Tawba. The promise of gardens accompanies the declaration that God’s good pleasure is greater. Used as a thematic comparison for the lovers’ priorities in couplet 2, without claiming a direct quotation.
3. Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 2957a, Kitāb al-zuhd wa-l-raqāʾiq, report of Jābir ibn ʿAbd Allāh; the linked edition also identifies it as Book 55, Hadith 2. An unwanted animal carcass supplies a comparison for worldly insignificance. This establishes a related image, not a verified chain of borrowing or an exact quotation in couplet 3.
4. Ibn ʿArabi, Kitāb al-fanāʾ fī l-mushāhada, translated by Layla Shamash and Stephen Hirtenstein, Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn Arabi Society, 9 (1991). The reward discussion retains obligatory and customary prophetic actions; the concluding discussion distinguishes witnessing from encompassing God. These passages support the explicitly comparative readings in couplets 6 and 7.

Verified contextual references

5. Qur’an 9:72, al-Tawba. The verse promises gardens and dwelling places while placing God’s good pleasure above them. This confirms a thematic comparison for couplet 2; it does not establish quotation or borrowing.
6. Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 2957a, Kitāb al-zuhd wa-l-raqāʾiq; Book 55, Hadith 2, narrated by Jābir ibn ʿAbd Allāh. The report uses an unwanted carcass to express worldly insignificance. It is a contextual parallel to couplet 3, not evidence that the couplet quotes this report.
7. Ibn ʿArabi, Kitāb al-fanāʾ fī l-mushāhada, translated by Layla Shamash and Stephen Hirtenstein, first published in Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn Arabi Society, IX (1991). The Society’s published translation verifies both comparisons: relinquishing calculated recompense while maintaining obligatory and customary prophetic practice, and distinguishing divine witnessing from encompassing God. No edition-specific article pages or explanation of this exact ghazal are claimed.