The flames of grief grow thicker and thicker,
Your body is a shriveled scrap in this fire. It means that, loving the people of the world with passion,
Poetry
Poems by Akrom Malik, newest first. Pick one for your mood.
Man is not free of offense and sin,
Error is a trait of mankind. The heart will not give up because of an anguished sigh,
When, opening just a crack, the heavy door
Of bitter life, all made of steel, swung wide, A youth, hearing a restrained cry,
THE CODE OF TIMUR IN VERSE
1 Praise of Allah
A believer, in the thicket of life,
Went astray for a long time, wandering lost. Fearing the grief and the hurt of misfortune,
The still unripe disciple called out to his elder:
“I have done dhikr for a long time, but I find no yearning… Give me yet another, different litany,
From the days of his youth, on the spiritual path,
A man of devoted heart spent his life in service. Taking the thread of the litanies from his elder’s hand,
There is no yearning in my worship, no feeling, my God,
There is no scent of fear within my heart, my God, There is no trace of seeking forgiveness, not a trace, my God,
One day several disciples gathered
And formed a cozy circle. Each one, to describe his own elder,
Like a violet left out in the rain,
My head was left beneath the falling stones. Like Azrael taking away the souls,
A pure-hearted youth said to his teacher with delight:
“A child is a king, and the throne is his! Innocent as an angel, sinless as a flower,
The disciples came saying, “Eid Mubarak,”
With beautiful words, and with gifts. The pains were washed out of the teacher’s heart,
Like the vagrant wind of spring,
Go bang your head on every door and every crack. Like the question on a mute man’s tongue,
Everyone does what befits his nature,
This justice of pre-eternity is never broken: To love books is the mark of kings,
Like a wolf that chews its prey for a long time,
Sorrow seems to want to chew me long and to digest me. Like a chimney with black smoke boiling up inside,
A few moments passed in ease,
On the tongue, glorification and praise, repentance, seeking forgiveness. Even sorrows became like a dream,
Don't wait!
The more you wait, the slower time goes by, Don't open your heart to one who can't grasp its secret.
A young woman. A young mother. Faith in her heart,
She never misses her five daily prayers. Yet her heart was always bleeding with pain,
He was a man of poverty, a man of self-effacement,
Doing good to people was ever his work. Flowers were always blooming on his tongue,
There once was a saint, humble and sorrowful,
His eyes were always filled with tears. A man of spiritual states, a man of steadfast calm,
Let me tell the truth to those who say “I'm your friend,”
Perhaps the fickle ones are unaware of it. First fill with light the eye that is called the heart,
If every person looked into a mirror,
He'd see his true face is not beautiful. Unable to bear facing it even for a moment,
I am terribly afraid of my own state,
What will I do if my deeds come seeking me?! With the trembling in my body barely easing,
Sorrow is a loyal army that You send,
It drives back to You those who flee from You. If even then someone does not come in harmony