Wisdom
One day several disciples gathered
Translated from Uzbek · Original text
One day several disciples gatheredAnd formed a cozy circle.Each one, to describe his own elder,Poured out heaps of praise.One spoke excitedly of miracles,Another spoke at length of his elder’s courage.Each, as if singing a song full of zeal,Praised his guide’s piety and devotion.One disciple was silent, listening without a sound,Looking attentively at each of them.One said to him: “O dear friend,You speak too, after all, with respect!You too describe your teacher —What miracle of his is always manifest?We have never once heard your voice,Tell us, in what is your elder skilled?Mine, for example, is a revealer of the path,With his eloquent speech he conquers hearts.You too, after all, introduce your elder,By which road does he reach which stage?”From the disciple’s lips, like pearls,Rang out the words the listeners awaited:“What can I say? Our teacher is a light in the darkness,Raw ones like us are not worthy of him.We are birds, and yet the cage is dear to us,Our teacher wants to set us free.Our desires are always traps for us,We have grown so blind, so blind, alas.Which of my elder’s qualities can I describe, and how?!With love for him I have torn my breast.Very well, let me tell you a secret within me:It is his silence I have always longed for.”Akrom MALIK
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