Patience
Upon a helpless, weak and wretched soul
Translated from Uzbek · Original text
Upon a helpless, weak and wretched soulA vile man cast the stone of slander.The poor one, unable to bear the shame and disgrace,Wept for a long time because of this injustice.Enemies and traitors, as is their way, foreverLie in wait for the moment to strike with a dagger.And friends, too, turning wholly into foes,Shut the door, humiliating him again and again.The wronged one wept blood as if his soul would leave him,He even searched for some way just to go on living.From a mountain of grief more bitter than deathPerhaps his heart was torn to shreds.He turned to God: “I have repented,Accept my repentance, You Yourself, my God!..I have stumbled over the stones of calumny,Surely, the cause of it is my offense, my mistake…What can I say to the one who slandered me?..I have left it to Your mercy, my Lord.Be my friend and helper every moment,My cries and moans no longer fit within my throat.It is good that I became the target of calumny —They said I did what I had never done.Let this luckless brow be made of stone, my God,My friends have eaten me alive.In truth, rather than committing sins in secretAnd bobbing like an apple on the water,To become a byword through open slanderAnd wail so much — is perhaps better.”Akrom MALIK
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