When Everything Comes from the Friend

بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ

مَگَر صَبا زِ سَرِ کُویِ دُوسْت می‌آیَد
کِه اَز زَمین و زَمان بُویِ دُوسْت می‌آیَد

چِه رَشْک‌هاست کِه اَز باد می‌بَرَم هَر شَب
کِه رُویِ او زِ چِه بَر رُویِ دُوسْت می‌آیَد

زِ کُویِ دُوسْت چو عاشِق کَشیده دار پای
کَمَنْدِ شَوْق هَم اَز مُویِ دُوسْت می‌آیَد

وَفا چِگونه کُنَد عَقْل و هُوش با مَنِ مَسْت
چُنین کِه جام پَیاپَی زِ دُوسْت می‌آیَد

هَر آن‌چِه آیَدَت اَز غَیْب، نیک و بَد مَنِگَر
هَمین بَس اَست کِه اَز سُویِ دُوسْت می‌آیَد

اَز این مَصائِبِ دَوْران مَنال و شادان باش
کِه تیرِ دُوسْت بِه پَهْلُویِ دُوسْت می‌آیَد

بِیا و وَعْظِ مُعین، رُموزِ عِشْق شِنَو
کِه اَز حِکایَتِ او بُویِ دُوسْت می‌آیَد

Meaning:

Can it be the dawn breeze coming from the lane of the Friend?

For from earth and time itself, the fragrance of the Friend is coming.

What jealousies I suffer from the wind each night,

for how does its face come face to face with the Friend?

Lover, try to hold your foot back from the Friend’s lane,

yet the noose of longing itself comes from the Friend’s hair.

How can reason and awareness remain faithful to me, drunk as I am,

when cup after cup keeps coming from the Friend?

Whatever comes to you from the Unseen, do not look at it as good or bad.

This is enough: it comes from the side of the Friend.

Do not complain of these afflictions of the turning age; be joyful.

The arrow of the Friend comes to the side of the Friend’s own lover.

Come and listen to Muʿīn’s counsel; hear the mysteries of love,

for from his telling comes the fragrance of the Friend.

Language:

Persian

Transliteration:

Magar ṣabā ze sar-e kūy-e dūst mī-āyad
Ke az zamīn o zamān būy-e dūst mī-āyad

Che rashk-hāst ke az bād mī-baram har shab
Ke rūy-e ū ze che bar rūy-e dūst mī-āyad

Ze kūy-e dūst cho ʿāsheq keshīde dār pāy
Kamand-e shawq ham az mūy-e dūst mī-āyad

Vafā chegūne konad ʿaql o hūsh bā man-e mast
Chonīn ke jām payāpay ze dūst mī-āyad

Har ān-che āyadat az ghayb, nīk o bad ma-negar
Hamīn bas ast ke az sūy-e dūst mī-āyad

Az īn maṣāʾeb-e dowrān manāl o shādān bāsh
Ke tīr-e dūst be pahlūy-e dūst mī-āyad

Biyā o vaʿẓ-e Muʿīn, romūz-e ʿeshq shenow
Ke az ḥekāyat-e ū būy-e dūst mī-āyad

Origins:

These lines are from a Persian ghazal associated with Muʿīn / Muʿīnī. In South Asian circulation, poems of this dīvān have often appeared under the name of Khwāja Muʿīn al-Dīn Chishtī, but modern scholarship treats the dīvān as belonging to Farāhī Heravī, whose poetic names include Muʿīn, Muʿīnī, and Miskīn. A stylistic study of Farāhī Heravī’s poems notes the simplicity and naturalness of his language, and places his poetry within a deeply mystical current.

The same study quotes the central couplet:

هَرآنچه آیدت از غیب نیک و بد منگر

همین بس است که از سوی دوست می‌آید

and places it under the poet’s mystical view of destiny and trust in the Divine order.

Brief Explanation:

This ghazal is built on one returning movement:

می‌آیَد — it comes.

The breeze comes.

The fragrance comes.

The cup comes.

The arrow comes.

The story comes.

Everything is arriving.

But the poem is not mainly about arrival from the outside. It is about learning to recognize the Sender.

That is the heart of the poem.

The poet does not say that life will always come gently. He does not say that every event will feel sweet. He does not deny pain, confusion, jealousy, longing, or affliction.

He says something deeper.

Look at where it comes from.

The first image is the morning breeze:

صَبا

In Persian poetry, ṣabā is not only wind. It is a messenger. It carries news. It carries scent. It passes where the lover cannot pass. It enters the lane of the Beloved and returns with a fragrance.

This is why the poet says:

اَز زَمین و زَمان بُویِ دُوسْت می‌آیَد

From earth and time comes the fragrance of the Friend.

This is a beautiful way of seeing the world.

The earth is not empty.

Time is not empty.

Events are not merely events.

There is scent in them.

There is a trace.

There is a hidden kindness, even when the surface is difficult.

The lover then becomes jealous of the wind.

That may sound strange at first.

Why be jealous of wind?

Because the wind has access.

The wind reaches the Friend’s face. The lover remains distant. The wind touches what the lover longs for. In ordinary love, this is jealousy. In mystical love, it is also a lesson.

Everything is closer to the Friend than the ego thinks.

The breeze, the dust, the night, the wound, the cup, the arrow — all are under His command.

Then comes the couplet of being unable to leave:

زِ کُویِ دُوسْت چو عاشِق کَشیده دار پای
کَمَنْدِ شَوْق هَم اَز مُویِ دُوسْت می‌آیَد

The lover is told to hold back his foot from the lane of the Friend.

But how can he?

The lasso of longing comes from the Friend’s own hair.

This is one of the tender truths of the path.

The seeker thinks, “I am seeking.”

But the poem says:

Your seeking was already a rope thrown by the Friend.

Your longing was not born only in you.

It came to you.

Your restlessness is also a gift.

Your hunger for truth is also a sign.

Your inability to be satisfied with a small life is also a mercy.

Then the poem turns to intoxication:

وَفا چِگونه کُنَد عَقْل و هُوش با مَنِ مَسْت
چُنین کِه جام پَیاپَی زِ دُوسْت می‌آیَد

Reason and awareness cannot remain steady with a drunk lover when cup after cup is coming from the Friend.

This is not the drunkenness of heedlessness.

It is the bewilderment of love.

There is a kind of sobriety that is useful. We need judgment. We need balance. We need duty. We need discipline.

But there is also a point where the heart receives more than the mind can arrange.

A child feels this before an adult often does.

A child can stand before the sea, a tree, a bird, a flame, a night sky, and become silent.

The mind has not disappeared.

It has bowed.

That is a holy bowing.

Education should not kill this.

A school that teaches only information but does not protect wonder has taken the cup away from the child.

Then comes the central teaching:

هَر آن‌چِه آیَدَت اَز غَیْب، نیک و بَد مَنِگَر
هَمین بَس اَست کِه اَز سُویِ دُوسْت می‌آیَد

Whatever comes from the Unseen, do not look at it as good or bad.

This does not mean that cruelty becomes good.

It does not mean that injustice should be accepted.

It does not mean that a person should stop working, stop resisting wrong, or stop protecting the weak.

It means that beneath the changing surface of life, the lover keeps trust with the Friend.

There is a difference between moral judgment and inward complaint.

We must still call truth truth.

We must still call harm harm.

We must still serve, repair, protect, and act.

But inwardly, the heart learns not to become bitter toward the One who sends the lesson.

That is very difficult.

It is also very freeing.

The poem does not ask the lover to understand everything.

It asks the lover to trust the Sender.

This matters deeply in education.

A teacher also receives many things from the unseen part of a child’s life.

A child may come with anger.

A child may come with fear.

A child may come with silence.

A child may come with restlessness.

A child may come with defiance.

A child may come with grief that has no words.

The teacher’s first task is not to label too quickly.

Good child.

Bad child.

Easy child.

Difficult child.

Bright child.

Weak child.

These judgments are often too small.

The poem says:

نیک و بَد مَنِگَر

Do not look only through the narrow window of good and bad.

Look deeper.

What is being sent to me through this child?

What is being asked of me?

Patience?

Firmness?

Mercy?

Clear speech?

A higher gaze?

A cleaner intention?

Sometimes the difficult child is a cup from the Friend.

Sometimes the interruption is a cup from the Friend.

Sometimes the delay is a cup from the Friend.

Sometimes the wound that humbles the teacher is a cup from the Friend.

This does not make the work easy.

It makes it sacred.

Then the poem speaks of afflictions:

اَز این مَصائِبِ دَوْران مَنال و شادان باش
کِه تیرِ دُوسْت بِه پَهْلُویِ دُوسْت می‌آیَد

Do not complain of the troubles of the age.

Be joyful.

The arrow of the Friend comes to the side of the Friend’s own lover.

This is not a small statement.

An arrow hurts.

The poet does not deny that.

But in the language of love, even the wound can become nearness.

There are wounds that make a person hard.

There are wounds that make a person bitter.

There are wounds that close the heart.

But there are also wounds that open the heart.

A disappointment can remove pride.

A loss can teach dependence on God.

A delay can purify intention.

A failure can return a person to prayer.

A hardship can make the soul softer toward the pain of others.

The arrow is still an arrow.

But when it comes from the Friend, it is not meaningless.

This is the difference between despair and surrender.

Despair says:

This pain is empty.

Surrender says:

I do not understand this pain, but I will not let it separate me from the Friend.

That is spiritual maturity.

The final couplet returns to fragrance:

بِیا و وَعْظِ مُعین، رُموزِ عِشْق شِنَو
کِه اَز حِکایَتِ او بُویِ دُوسْت می‌آیَد

Come and listen.

Hear the mysteries of love.

From this telling comes the scent of the Friend.

The poem began with the breeze carrying fragrance.

It ends with the poet’s own speech carrying fragrance.

That is what true poetry does.

It becomes ṣabā.

It does not merely explain.

It carries scent.

It brings the heart near.

A note about the wording:

The word دُوسْت is central.

It means Friend.

But in Persian mystical poetry, the Friend is not only a human companion. The Friend can be the Beloved, the guide, the hidden Lord, the One who wounds and heals, the One who sends the cup and the arrow.

This is why the word is so powerful.

The poem does not say “God” directly in every line.

It says “Friend.”

That changes the feeling.

“God” may be heard as power.

“Friend” is heard as nearness.

“God” may make the servant stand in awe.

“Friend” makes the lover tremble with intimacy.

Both are needed.

But this ghazal chooses intimacy.

The other important word is غَیْب — the Unseen.

The Unseen is not nothingness.

It is the hidden side of reality.

Many things reach us from there before we understand them.

A meeting.

A loss.

A sentence.

A child’s question.

A sudden ache of longing.

A door closing.

A door opening.

The lover does not understand all of it.

But he learns to ask:

From whom has this come?

That one question changes the heart.

Moral Use:

These lines are useful before complaint.

Before judging an event too quickly.

Before losing patience with a child.

Before becoming proud of ease.

Before becoming bitter in hardship.

Before saying, “Why has this come to me?”

They ask the heart:

Can I see the Friend in what has arrived?

Can I receive the cup without vanity?

Can I receive the arrow without despair?

Can I see longing itself as a rope from the Friend?

Can I stop dividing every moment too quickly into good and bad?

This does not remove responsibility.

It purifies it.

We still act.

We still correct.

We still protect.

We still work.

We still speak truth.

But we do not let the heart become poisoned by complaint.

For a teacher, this poem is a quiet training.

The child who comes before us is not only a task.

The day that comes before us is not only a schedule.

The difficulty that comes before us is not only a disturbance.

Something is being sent.

Something is being taught.

Something is being asked.

The poem gives one sentence to carry:

هَمین بَس اَست کِه اَز سُویِ دُوسْت می‌آیَد

This is enough:

It comes from the Friend.