The Reconstruction of Islamic Thought: Syikwah and Jawab Syikwah by Allama Muhammad Iqbal

Dear My weblog readers,

I take this opportunity to share with you these amazing pieces by Sir Muhammad Iqbal. Very inspirational and thought provoking. These poems have provoked debate and controversy and even some scholars criticized Allama Iqbal of being rude and harsh in his words when talking to God.

I believe these poems will be good entertainment for us and at the same time able to stimulate our thought with the reality of the Muslims world today. I dedicate these poems to all my fellow Muslims brothers and sisters.

Enjoy reading, watching and listening!!!!

The Complaint (Syikwah)

Why should I abet the loss, why forget the gain,
Why forfiet the future, bemoan the past in vain?

Hear the wail of nightingal, and remain unstirred,
Am I a flower insensate that will not say a word?

The power of speech emboldens me to speak out my heart,
I’ll sure be damned, I know, if fault my God.

Hear, O Lord, from the faithful ones this sad lament,
From those used to hymn a praise, a word of discontent.

Enternally were you present, Lord, eternally omniscent,
The flower hung upon the tree, but without incense.

Be Thou fair, tell us true, O fountsinhead of grace,
How could the scent spread withoutthe breeze apace?

The world presented a queer sight ere we took the stage,
Stones and plants in your stead were worshipped in that age.

Man, being inured to senses, couldn’t accept a thing unseen,
How could a formless God impress his senses keen?

Tell me, Lord, if anyone ever invoked Thy name,
The strength of Muslim arm alone restored Thy fame.

There was no dearth of peoples on this earth before,
Turkish tribes and Persian clans lived in days of yore;

The Greeks and the Chinese both bred and throve,
Christians as well as the Jews on this planet roved.

But who in Thy holy name raised his valiant sword,
Who set the things right, resolved the rigmarole?

We were the warrior bands battling for Thy cause,
Now on land, now on water, we the crusades fought.

Now in Europe’s synods did we loudly pray,
Now in African deserts made a bold foray.

Not for territorial greed did we wield the sword,
Not for pelf and power did we suffer the blows.

Had we been temped by the greed of glittering gold,
Instead of breaking idols, would have idols sold.

We impressed on every heart the oneness of our mighty Lord,
Even under the threat of sword, bold and clever was our call.

Who conquered, tell us Thou, the fearful Khyber pass?
Who vanquished the Imperial Rome, who made it fall?

Who broke the idols of the primitive folks?
Who fought the kafirs, massacred their hordes?

If the prayer time arrived right amid the war,
With their faces turned to Kaaba, knelt down the brave Hejaz.

Mahmud and Ayaz stood together in the same flank,
The ruler and the ruled forget the difference in their rank.

The rich and poor, Lord and slave, all were levelled down,
All became brethern in love, with Thy grace crowned.

We roamed the world through, visited every place,
Did our rounds like the cup, serving sacred ale.

Forget about the forests, we spared not the seas,
Into the dark, unfathomed ocean, we pushed our steeds.

We removed falsehood from the earth’s face,
We broke the shackles of the human race.

We reclaimed your Kaaba with our kneeling brows,
We pressed the sacred Quran to our heart and soul.

Even then you grumble, we are false, untrue,
If you call us faithless, tell us what are you?

You reserve your favours for men of other shades,
While you hurl your bolts on the Muslim race.

This is not our complaint that such alone are blesse,
Who do not know the etiquette, nor even can converse.

The tragedy is while kafirs are with houries actually blest,
On vague hopes of houries in heaven the Muslim race is made to rest!

Poverty, taunts, ignominy stare us in the face,
Is humiliation the sole reward of our suffering race?

To perpetuate Thy name is our sole concern,
Deprived of the saqi’s aid can the cup revolve and turn?

Gone is your assemblage, off your lovers have sailed,
The midnight sights are no more heard, nor the morning wails;

They pledged their hearts to you, what is their return?
Hardly had they stepped inside, when they were externed.

Thy lovers came and went away, fed on hopes of future grace,
Search them now with the lamp of your glowing face.

Unassuaged is Laila’s ache, unquenched is Qais’s thirst,
In the wilderness of Nejd, the wild deer are still berserk.

The same passion thrills the hearts, enchanting still is beauty’s gaze,
You are the same as before, same too is the Prophet’s race.

Why then this indifference, without a cause or fault?
Why with your threatening looks dost thou break our heart?

Accepted that the flame of love burneth low and dim,
We do not, as in your, dance attendance on your whims;

But you too, pardon us, possess a coquettish heart,
Now on us, now on others, alight your amorous darts.

The spring has now taken leave, broken lies the lyre string,
The birds that chirped among the leaves have also taken wing;

A single nightingale is left singing on the tree,
A flood of song in her breast is longing for release.

From atop the firs and pines the doves have flown away,
The floral petals lie scattered all along the way.

Desolate lie the garden paths, once dressed and neat,
Leafless hang the branches on the naked trees.

The nightingale is unconcerned with the season’s range,
Would that someone in the grove appreciates her wail.

May the nightingale’s wail pierce the listeners’ hearts,
May the clinking caravan awaken slumbering thoughts!

Let the hearts pledge anew their faith to you, O Lord,
Let’s re-charge our cups from the taverns of the past.

Through I hold a Persian cup, the wine is pureHejaz,
Thought I sing an Indian song, the turn is of the Arabian cast.

The Answer (Jawab Syikwah)

JAWAB E SHIKWA

The word springing from the heart surely carries weight,
Though notendowed with wings, it yet can fly in space.

Pureand spiritual in its essence, it pegs its gaze on high,
Rising from the lowly dust, grazes past the skies.

Keen, defiant, and querulous was my passion crazed,
It pierced through the skies, my audacious wail.

“Someone is there,” thus spoke the heaven’s warder old,
the planets said, “From above proceeds this voice so bold.”

“No, no,” the moon said,” “tis someone on the earth below,”
Butted in the milky way: “The voice is hereabouts, I trow.”

Ruzwan alone, if at all, understood aright,
He knew it was the man, from heaven once exiled.

Even the angles wondered who raised this cry,
All the celestial denizens looked about surprised.

Does man possess the might to scale empyreal heights?
Has this mere pinch of dust learnt the knack to fly?

What are these earthly folks? Careless of all respect,
How bold and impudent, the lowly dwellers of the earth!

Extremely rude and insolent, cross even with God,
Is it the same Adam whom angels once did laud?

Steeped in bliss, man is of wisdom’s lore possessed,
Nonetheless, he’s alien to humility’s sterling worth.

Man feels proud of the power of his speech,
But the fool doesn’tknow how and what to speak.

You narrate a woeful tale, thus the voice arose,
Your heart is boiling overwith tears uncontrolled.

You have delivered your plaint with perfect skill and art,
You have brought the humans in contact with God.

We are inclined to grant, but none deserves our grace,
None treads the righteous path, whom to show the way?

Our school is open to all, but talent there is none,
Where is that soil fertile to breed the human gems?

We reward the deserving folks with splendid meed,
We grant newer worlds to those who strive and seek.

Arms have been drained of strength, hearts have gone astray,
The Muslim race is a blot on the Prophet’s face.

Idol-breakers have left the scene, idol-makers remain,
Aazar has inheritedAbraham’s glorious name.

Wine, flask,and drinkers-all arenew and changed,
A differentKaaba, different idols now your worship claim.

Therewas a time when you were respected far and wide,
Once this desert bloom was the season’s wealth and pride.

Every Muslim then was a lover profound of God,
Your sole beloved once was the all-embracing Lord.

Who removed falsehood from the earth’s face?
Who broke the shackles of the human race?

Who reclaimed our Kaaba with their kneeling brows?
Who presses the sacred Quran to their heart and soul?

True, they were your forbears, but what are you, I say?
Idle sitting, statue-like you dream away your days.

What did you say? Muslims are with hopes of houries consoled,
Even if your plaint is false, your words should be controlled.

Justice is the law supreme, operative on this globe,
Muslims can’t expect the houries, if they follow the kafir’s code.

None of you is,infact,deservingof the”hoor”,
A Moses is but hard to fin,burneth still the Tur.

Common to the race entire is their gain or loss,
Common is their faith and creed, common too the Rasul of God;

One Kaaba, one Allah, and one Quran inspire their heart,
Why can’t the Muslims then behave like a single lot?

Cast, creed and factions have disjointed this race,
Is this way to forge ahead, to flourish in the present age?

It’s the poor who visit the mosque, join the kneeling rows,
The poor alone observe the fasts, practise self-control.

If someone repeats our name, it’s the poor again,
The devout poor hide your sins, preserve your vaunted name.

Drunk with the wine of wealth, the rich are unconcerned with God,
The Muslim race owes its life to the poor, indigent lot.

“Muslims have vanished from earth,” this is what we hear,
but we ask, ” Were the Muslims ever the Jewish sects.

You are Nisars by your looks, but Hindus by conduct,
Your culture puts to shame even the Jewish sects.

If the son is alien to his learned father’s traits,
How can he then claim his father’s heritage?

All of you love to lead a soft, luxurious life,
Are you a Muslim indeed? Is this the Muslim style?

All of you desire to be invested with the crown,
You should first produce a heart worthy of renown.

The new age is the lighting blast, it will set your barns on fire,
It can’t produce in groves or deserts the Old Sinai’s burning spire.

The new fire consumes for fuel the blood of nations old,
The clothes of the Prophet’s race are incinerated in its folds.

Don’t be depressed, gardener, by the present scene,
The starry buds are about to burst with a brilliant sheen.

The garden will soon be rid of its thorns and weeds,
The martyr’s blood will bring to bloom all the dormant seeds.

Mark how the sky reflects its orange purple hues,
The rising sun will flush the sky with its rays anew.

Islamic tree exemplifies cultivation long and hard,
A fruit of arduous gardening over centuries past.

Your caraven needn’t fear the perils of the path,
But for the call ofbells you own no wealth at all.

You are the plant of light, the burning wick that never fails,
With the power of your thought you can incinerate the veil.

We’ll love you as our own, if you follow the Prophet’s ways,
The world is but a paltry thing, you’ll command the pen and page.

Best Regards
ZULKIFLI HASAN

Happy Teacher’s Day

Salam to all my weblog readers,

In conjunction with the ‘teacher’s day’ in Malaysia today, I would like to dedicate this poem to all teachers especially my ‘ustaz’, ‘ustazah’, ‘cikgu’ and ‘pensyarah’ and also to my wife ‘Mrs. Hanani Harun’ who is also a teacher. I am thankful to all of you. Happy teacher’s day and may Allah guides and bless you all.

Guru or Guru

BERBURU ke padang datar
Dapat rusa berbelang kaki
Berguru kepalang ajar
Ibarat bunga kembang tak jadi

Dialah pemberi paling setia
Tiap akar ilmu miliknya
Pelita dan lampu segala
Untuk manusia sebelum jadi dewasa.

Dialah ibu dialah bapa juga sahabat
Alur kesetiaan mengalirkan nasihat
Pemimpin yang ditauliahkan segala umat
Seribu tahun katanya menjadi hikmat.

Jika hari ini seorang Perdana Menteri berkuasa
Jika hari ini seorang Raja menaiki takhta
Jika hari ini seorang Presiden sebuah negara
Jika hari ini seorang ulama yang mulia
Jika hari ini seorang peguam menang bicara
Jika hari ini seorang penulis terkemuka
Jika hari ini siapa sahaja menjadi dewasa;
Sejarahnya dimulakan oleh seorang guru biasa
Dengan lembut sabarnya mengajar tulis-baca.

Di mana-mana dia berdiri di muka muridnya
Di sebuah sekolah mewah di Ibu Kota
Di bangunan tua sekolah Hulu Terengganu
Dia adalah guru mewakili seribu buku;
Semakin terpencil duduknya di ceruk desa
Semakin bererti tugasnya kepada negara.
Jadilah apa pun pada akhir kehidupanmu, guruku
Budi yang diapungkan di dulangi ilmu
Panggilan keramat “cikgu” kekal terpahat
Menjadi kenangan ke akhir hayat.

USMAN AWANG (1979)

Best Regards
ZULKIFLI HASAN

With my ‘guru’, Dr. Mehmet Asutay at Srebrenica, Bosnia and Herzegovina

The Reconstruction of Islamic Thought: Syikwah and Jawab Syikwah by Allama Muhammad Iqbal

Dear Myweblog readers,

I take this opportunity to share with you these amazing pieces by Sir Muhammad Iqbal. They are very inspirational and thought provoking. Perhaps,these poetries will be good entertainment for us and at the same time able to stimulate our thought with the reality of the muslims world today. I dedicate this new post to all my fellow Muslims brothers and sisters. Enjoy reading, watching and listening!!!!

The Complaint (Syikwah)

Why should I abet the loss, why forget the gain,
Why forfiet the future, bemoan the past in vain?

Hear the wail of nightingal, and remain unstirred,
Am I a flower insensate that will not say a word?

The power of speech emboldens me to speak out my heart,
I’ll sure be damned, I know, if fault my God.

Hear, O Lord, from the faithful ones this sad lament,
From those used to hymn a praise, a word of discontent.

Enternally were you present, Lord, eternally omniscent,
The flower hung upon the tree, but without incense.

Be Thou fair, tell us true, O fountsinhead of grace,
How could the scent spread withoutthe breeze apace?

The world presented a queer sight ere we took the stage,
Stones and plants in your stead were worshipped in that age.

Man, being inured to senses, couldn’t accept a thing unseen,
How could a formless God impress his senses keen?

Tell me, Lord, if anyone ever invoked Thy name,
The strength of Muslim arm alone restored Thy fame.

There was no dearth of peoples on this earth before,
Turkish tribes and Persian clans lived in days of yore;

The Greeks and the Chinese both bred and throve,
Christians as well as the Jews on this planet roved.

But who in Thy holy name raised his valiant sword,
Who set the things right, resolved the rigmarole?

We were the warrior bands battling for Thy cause,
Now on land, now on water, we the crusades fought.

Now in Europe’s synods did we loudly pray,
Now in African deserts made a bold foray.

Not for territorial greed did we wield the sword,
Not for pelf and power did we suffer the blows.

Had we been temped by the greed of glittering gold,
Instead of breaking idols, would have idols sold.

We impressed on every heart the oneness of our mighty Lord,
Even under the threat of sword, bold and clever was our call.

Who conquered, tell us Thou, the fearful Khyber pass?
Who vanquished the Imperial Rome, who made it fall?

Who broke the idols of the primitive folks?
Who fought the kafirs, massacred their hordes?

If the prayer time arrived right amid the war,
With their faces turned to Kaaba, knelt down the brave Hejaz.

Mahmud and Ayaz stood together in the same flank,
The ruler and the ruled forget the difference in their rank.

The rich and poor, Lord and slave, all were levelled down,
All became brethern in love, with Thy grace crowned.

We roamed the world through, visited every place,
Did our rounds like the cup, serving sacred ale.

Forget about the forests, we spared not the seas,
Into the dark, unfathomed ocean, we pushed our steeds.

We removed falsehood from the earth’s face,
We broke the shackles of the human race.

We reclaimed your Kaaba with our kneeling brows,
We pressed the sacred Quran to our heart and soul.

Even then you grumble, we are false, untrue,
If you call us faithless, tell us what are you?

You reserve your favours for men of other shades,
While you hurl your bolts on the Muslim race.

This is not our complaint that such alone are blesse,
Who do not know the etiquette, nor even can converse.

The tragedy is while kafirs are with houries actually blest,
On vague hopes of houries in heaven the Muslim race is made to rest!

Poverty, taunts, ignominy stare us in the face,
Is humiliation the sole reward of our suffering race?

To perpetuate Thy name is our sole concern,
Deprived of the saqi’s aid can the cup revolve and turn?

Gone is your assemblage, off your lovers have sailed,
The midnight sights are no more heard, nor the morning wails;

They pledged their hearts to you, what is their return?
Hardly had they stepped inside, when they were externed.

Thy lovers came and went away, fed on hopes of future grace,
Search them now with the lamp of your glowing face.

Unassuaged is Laila’s ache, unquenched is Qais’s thirst,
In the wilderness of Nejd, the wild deer are still berserk.

The same passion thrills the hearts, enchanting still is beauty’s gaze,
You are the same as before, same too is the Prophet’s race.

Why then this indifference, without a cause or fault?
Why with your threatening looks dost thou break our heart?

Accepted that the flame of love burneth low and dim,
We do not, as in your, dance attendance on your whims;

But you too, pardon us, possess a coquettish heart,
Now on us, now on others, alight your amorous darts.

The spring has now taken leave, broken lies the lyre string,
The birds that chirped among the leaves have also taken wing;

A single nightingale is left singing on the tree,
A flood of song in her breast is longing for release.

From atop the firs and pines the doves have flown away,
The floral petals lie scattered all along the way.

Desolate lie the garden paths, once dressed and neat,
Leafless hang the branches on the naked trees.

The nightingale is unconcerned with the season’s range,
Would that someone in the grove appreciates her wail.

May the nightingale’s wail pierce the listeners’ hearts,
May the clinking caravan awaken slumbering thoughts!

Let the hearts pledge anew their faith to you, O Lord,
Let’s re-charge our cups from the taverns of the past.

Through I hold a Persian cup, the wine is pureHejaz,
Thought I sing an Indian song, the turn is of the Arabian cast.

The Answer (Jawab Syikwah)

JAWAB E SHIKWA

The word springing from the heart surely carries weight,
Though notendowed with wings, it yet can fly in space.

Pureand spiritual in its essence, it pegs its gaze on high,
Rising from the lowly dust, grazes past the skies.

Keen, defiant, and querulous was my passion crazed,
It pierced through the skies, my audacious wail.

“Someone is there,” thus spoke the heaven’s warder old,
the planets said, “From above proceeds this voice so bold.”

“No, no,” the moon said,” “tis someone on the earth below,”
Butted in the milky way: “The voice is hereabouts, I trow.”

Ruzwan alone, if at all, understood aright,
He knew it was the man, from heaven once exiled.

Even the angles wondered who raised this cry,
All the celestial denizens looked about surprised.

Does man possess the might to scale empyreal heights?
Has this mere pinch of dust learnt the knack to fly?

What are these earthly folks? Careless of all respect,
How bold and impudent, the lowly dwellers of the earth!

Extremely rude and insolent, cross even with God,
Is it the same Adam whom angels once did laud?

Steeped in bliss, man is of wisdom’s lore possessed,
Nonetheless, he’s alien to humility’s sterling worth.

Man feels proud of the power of his speech,
But the fool doesn’tknow how and what to speak.

You narrate a woeful tale, thus the voice arose,
Your heart is boiling overwith tears uncontrolled.

You have delivered your plaint with perfect skill and art,
You have brought the humans in contact with God.

We are inclined to grant, but none deserves our grace,
None treads the righteous path, whom to show the way?

Our school is open to all, but talent there is none,
Where is that soil fertile to breed the human gems?

We reward the deserving folks with splendid meed,
We grant newer worlds to those who strive and seek.

Arms have been drained of strength, hearts have gone astray,
The Muslim race is a blot on the Prophet’s face.

Idol-breakers have left the scene, idol-makers remain,
Aazar has inheritedAbraham’s glorious name.

Wine, flask,and drinkers-all arenew and changed,
A differentKaaba, different idols now your worship claim.

Therewas a time when you were respected far and wide,
Once this desert bloom was the season’s wealth and pride.

Every Muslim then was a lover profound of God,
Your sole beloved once was the all-embracing Lord.

Who removed falsehood from the earth’s face?
Who broke the shackles of the human race?

Who reclaimed our Kaaba with their kneeling brows?
Who presses the sacred Quran to their heart and soul?

True, they were your forbears, but what are you, I say?
Idle sitting, statue-like you dream away your days.

What did you say? Muslims are with hopes of houries consoled,
Even if your plaint is false, your words should be controlled.

Justice is the law supreme, operative on this globe,
Muslims can’t expect the houries, if they follow the kafir’s code.

None of you is,infact,deservingof the”hoor”,
A Moses is but hard to fin,burneth still the Tur.

Common to the race entire is their gain or loss,
Common is their faith and creed, common too the Rasul of God;

One Kaaba, one Allah, and one Quran inspire their heart,
Why can’t the Muslims then behave like a single lot?

Cast, creed and factions have disjointed this race,
Is this way to forge ahead, to flourish in the present age?

It’s the poor who visit the mosque, join the kneeling rows,
The poor alone observe the fasts, practise self-control.

If someone repeats our name, it’s the poor again,
The devout poor hide your sins, preserve your vaunted name.

Drunk with the wine of wealth, the rich are unconcerned with God,
The Muslim race owes its life to the poor, indigent lot.

“Muslims have vanished from earth,” this is what we hear,
but we ask, ” Were the Muslims ever the Jewish sects.

You are Nisars by your looks, but Hindus by conduct,
Your culture puts to shame even the Jewish sects.

If the son is alien to his learned father’s traits,
How can he then claim his father’s heritage?

All of you love to lead a soft, luxurious life,
Are you a Muslim indeed? Is this the Muslim style?

All of you desire to be invested with the crown,
You should first produce a heart worthy of renown.

The new age is the lighting blast, it will set your barns on fire,
It can’t produce in groves or deserts the Old Sinai’s burning spire.

The new fire consumes for fuel the blood of nations old,
The clothes of the Prophet’s race are incinerated in its folds.

Don’t be depressed, gardener, by the present scene,
The starry buds are about to burst with a brilliant sheen.

The garden will soon be rid of its thorns and weeds,
The martyr’s blood will bring to bloom all the dormant seeds.

Mark how the sky reflects its orange purple hues,
The rising sun will flush the sky with its rays anew.

Islamic tree exemplifies cultivation long and hard,
A fruit of arduous gardening over centuries past.

Your caraven needn’t fear the perils of the path,
But for the call ofbells you own no wealth at all.

You are the plant of light, the burning wick that never fails,
With the power of your thought you can incinerate the veil.

We’ll love you as our own, if you follow the Prophet’s ways,
The world is but a paltry thing, you’ll command the pen and page.

Best Regards
ZULKIFLI HASAN

Cordoba

Cordoba

by Allama Muhammad Iqbal

Written in 1933 on Spanish soil, mainly in the Mosque of Cordoba.

I

Chain of day and night
Fashioner of events
Basis of life and death
Two tone silken thread
Fiber of attributes
Pitch of prospects
Chain of day and night
Sitting in judgment
Setting a value on us
When we’re lacking
Death is your destiny
Death is my destiny
What else is reality
The flow of one age
Neither day nor night
All crafts vanish
Black and white fade
Annihilation the end

II

But in this form
Hues of eternal life
Splendor of man’s love
Love is life’s base
Death has no claim on love
Love itself the tide
Stemming the torrent
Love is unnamed eras
Love is Gabriel’s breath
Love is the Prophet of God
Love is the Word of God
Love is the radiant rose
Love is raw wine
Love the goblet of kings
Love draws life’s music
Love is passion for life
Love is fire of life

III

O Mosque of Cordoba
Born of love with no past
Color or stone or brick
Harp or song or speech
Man’s passionate creation
A drop of blood turns
Even stone into hearts
The heart’s voice is joy
Burning and melody
You illuminate the heart
My song burns the breast
You draw man’s heart
To the presence of God
But the passion of love
For God is man’s alone
I spark man’s passion
Though his sight is finite
His heart is wider than the sky
So what if God has rights
He doesn’t earn the pain
I am an Indian infidel
Witness my fervor
In my heart prayers
On lips blessings
Love is my flute
Love is my song
In my every bone
“God is God”

IV

Witness of man’s worth
Your glory mirrors his soul
Firm columns soar
Palms in Syrian sands
Sinai’s light gleams roof
Gabriel crowns the minaret
A Muslim can never despair
Standing where the Prophets stood
His horizon infinite
Tigris Danube Nile flood his veins
Cup-bearer and horseman
In love a warrior
A sword’s shadow his armor
“There is no god but God”

V

You reveal man’s secret
Ardor of his days
Dissolution of his nights
His submission
As is God’s hand
So is the believer’s
Man prospers on deeds
He is clay and fire
Divine within
Free of both worlds
His ambition small
His purpose large
Pure-hearted in war or peace
God’s compass revolves
Around man’s faith
And the world is illusion
Man of God is reason’s horizon
The harvest of love
Fire of the gathering
Heaven’s passion

VI

Art lover’s Mecca
Faith’s grandeur
You made Andalusia holy
Only Muslims mirror your grandeur
O those Arab horsemen
Pledged to truth
Revealed this new secret
People who embrace Faith
Renounce the material
They enlightened the West
Yemen’s scent persists
Even today Arabia’s music
Lingers in Andalusia’s breeze

VII

Alas for centuries
No Calls to Prayer
Echo the minaret
In which valley
At which destination
Is love’s caravan inducing frenzy
As all Europe swept away the old order
Repainted the face of the West
So today those torrents stir Muslims
A divine prophecy seals my lips
But let us watch secrets surface
From the ocean’s depth
Watch the sky change hue

VIII

A cloud drenched in twilight
The sun scatters rubies
A peasant’s daughter sings
Youth sails on heart’s boat
On the Guadalquivir
Someone dreams of another age
New order still veiled by fate
Another dawn is approaching
In my mind’s eye
If I unveil my thoughts
Fan the flames of my song
Europe couldn’t endure
Life without revolution is death
As man’s creations are soulless
Without passionate belief
So my song

  • The Great Mosque of Cordoba

    In Memory of Our Beloved Imam Muhammad Ibnu Idris Al Shafii

    The Last Poem of Imam Al Shafii

    ولما قسـا قلبي وضـاقت مذاهبي
    جعلت الرجـاء مني لعفوك سلمــا
    تعاظمني ذنبـي فلمـا قرنتــه
    بعفوك ربي كان عـفوك أعظمــا
    فما زلتَ ذا عفو عن الذنب لم تزل
    تـجـود وتعـفو منة وتكرمـــا
    فلولاك لـم يصمـد لإبلـيس عابد
    فكيف وقد أغوى صفيك أدما
    فيا ليت شعــري هل أصير لجنة
    أهنـــا؟ وأمـا للسعير فأندما
    فإن تنتـقـم مني فلست بآسي
    ولو أدخلت روحي بجــرم جهنمـا
    فإن تعف عني تعف عـن متمرد
    ظلوم غشــوم قاسي القلب مجرما
    ويذكر أيام مضت من شبابه
    وما كان فيها بالجهالة أجرما
    يقيم إذا ما الليل مد ضلامه
    على نفسه من شدة الخوف مأتما
    يقول حبيبي أنت سؤلي وغايتي
    كفى بك للراجين سؤلا و مغنما
    الست الذي غذيتني و هديتني
    ولازلت منانا علي ومنعما
    عسى من له الإحسان يغفر زلتي
    ويستر أوزاري وما قد تقدما

    When my heart hardened and my ways narrowed
    My hope of your forgiveness towards You was my approach
    I greatened my sin, yet when I compare it with your forgiveness
    My Lord your forgiveness was greater
    Yet, You forgive sins and still
    Generously and gracefully bestow and forgive
    Were it not for You, no worshipper would withstand Satan
    How and he already has lured your chosen Adam
    Alas! Would I be lead to paradise then I am a fortunate
    Or a remorse to hell I am lead
    Indeed not despaired if You avenged me
    Or into the core of hell You brought my soul
    And if You forgive me, a mutinous You forgive…
    A wrongful unfair pitiless criminal…
    He remembers the past youth days
    And what crimes of ignorance were committed
    Then, when the dark spread out
    Fearfully he mourns himself
    Saying my beloved You are my request and wish
    Sufficient You are for the hopeful to ask and gain
    Were not You who fed me and guided me?
    And still, You give me generously and bless me
    May You, to Whom my charity belongs, forgive me my faults,
    Pardon my sins and what came before.

    Palestine, I Hear You – A Poem

    A very inspirational and powerful poem by Lilian Rosengarten. May Allah free Palestine from the zionist.

    Palestine, I Hear You – A Poem

    By Lillian Rosengarten Available at: http://palestinechronicle.com/view_article_details.php?id=16351

    Palestine! You call to me with whispers of pain.
    You speak of lost poets, children who cry for lost parents, lost teachers
    lost childhoods, dreams torn from their roots, mangled in a desert gone dry.
    In this place, water is poisoned, air putrid from the blood belly of war
    There is no escape, only sleep ravished by nightmares or death.

    I want to hear your poetry
    and tell you mine.
    I want to look into your eyes and see myself in you.
    Down! Down beneath the graves I hear your cries
    Muffled in a shroud of deception. You don’t exist.

    Israel, you are no longer my Israel.
    You punish those you call Arabs, dirty Arabs.
    Sad peoples of Palestine spit on and defiled, kept behind a wall.
    Oh ghetto of Israel, I ache for the reviled proud Palestinians, our brothers and sisters.
    But most of all I ache for you, for you know not what you do.

    – Lillian Rosengarten was the only American on board the Irene to Gaza.

    Best Regards
    ZULKIFLI HASAN

  • Masjid Al Aqsa