Faith
The affairs of this world cannot be set right,
Translated from Uzbek · Original text
The affairs of this world cannot be set right,The affairs of no person can be set right.Mend one side, and another side will crack,The mystery of secrets cannot be understood.That is, the servant is not the owner and king of any affair,The servant is not the protector of another servant.Sometimes a person cannot see his own affairs,That being so, man is no witness of the heart.The tyrants are bent on tyranny, the oppressed have no remedy,When the sword of tyranny strikes, the condemned have no remedy.Your sighs and moans are your heart’s only friend and helper,There is no one as troubled as you to share your secrets.On one side the onlookers, on one side the indifferent and silent,On one side the reproachers — telling your faults without rest.To some you are a torment, to some you are wretched and helpless,The birds of taunts and insults seek to roost on your body.You do not even wish to stab the one who stabbed you with a blade,You do not even wish to open your heart to one who calls himself your confidant.Seeing the state of the world, seeing how love is wasted,You swallow everything inside and never even wish to overflow.Looking sadly at the stones thrown at you while living,One day you wish to carry your own corpse on your shoulders.So that, when they come to your funeral prayer,People’s shoulders will not ache from the weight of your coffin.Smiling to your face, they scatter backbiting behind your back,When trials fall upon your head, they flee without looking back.Unable to manage either friendship or enmity,They walk watching your shadow and even cut your shroud.If only you did not exist, and gardens and springs would come,The darkness of night would depart and dawn and morning would laugh.If thorns turned into flowers and poison into honey,If stings became sweetness and the dawns filled with light!Your battered body, alas, will not fit into this world,The tent of calamities will never be folded from over your head.Stones rain down, hail rains down, tears rain down from your eyes,But not once, even by mistake, will pure love rain down.The ruin of the world became clear to my eyes,My life became a flower garden of the flowers of grief and sorrow.Knowing that people do not understand the language of people,The tongue went mute, the mind bewildered, the thoughts scattered.To live without ruining any heart is my aim,Grief and anxious thoughts are my troubled seat.Before the image of heedlessness and ignorance,Looking at my own state, my every deed is my regret.To make the world flourish is an impossible task — it is true,The flower garden of love is a sweet dream — it is true.If only I can make the courtyard of the Hereafter prosperous, it is enough,The soul is a grieving bird locked inside the body — it is true!I have turned to You, O God; without You I am alone, unhappy,If You do not help me, I have no promise and no pledge.Make Your remembrance my provision, give me strength to obey You,To You be praises, praise and glorification without number!Akrom MALIK
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