Wisdom
Much is the praise and description of a friend,
Translated from Uzbek · Original text
***Much is the praise and description of a friend,A friend is like a glowing ember in your heart.But let no frost settle upon your thinking —Do not forget your enemy, my son!That land is land is known by its harvest,That a people is a people is known by its bow.A youth becomes a man by gaining foes,If you would play, then play with the sword, my son!If you ask, “Who am I?” — then raise your head,Look, at every step a thousand and one dangers!Your awe is as great as your enemies are,Measure your stature against the foe, my son!Let there be love in your heart for your friend,In any case, let your body bear majesty,Let there be unbending enmity for the foe,Never grow weary of battle and strife, my son.Some strike with daggers, some fire bullets,Poisoned spears sink deep into the chest,Friends who are enemies at heart will surely sell you,Do not fear the savagery of the foe, my son!If the foe is a coward, be brave yourself,With the honor of courage be a torment to the foe,In the court of the Truth be but dust and ashes,If you are in the right, never retreat, my son!Do not bow to the world, do not chase after rank,If you have mounted for battle, do not dismount.For the Beloved embrace the pain, not comfort,Do not fall into the pit of ease, my son!If you see torment, endure it, but do not weep,Let the enemies cry out — always stand tall!When you roar, let the seven heavens tremble,Do not bow before the base, my son!Tear out the enemy's soul without mercy,On the path of courage do not crawl — run!Always turn your face toward the qibla,Do not groan amid fear and horror, my son!Let foes tremble when they hear your name,At your word let barriers shatter in a thousand pieces,Let the lion-hearted take their place in your ranks,Do not count the cowards and rags as men, my son!The bastard forgets when he is shown kindness,The very name of friendship is foreign to him.In the hands of the wicked, his cunning is his snare,Do not yield to the one who does you evil, my son!Only a slave forgets the tyrant's oppression,Scatter the ashes of tyranny to the skies!Let death rejoice at meeting you,Present death with honors as your gift, my son!Who is the enemy? The tyrant is the eternal enemy,And Satan counted man as his enemy,So Satan is the greatest enemy,Never fear the enemy, my son!Serve your elders with a sincere heart,Always kiss the feet of the good.And know: a thousand friends are few,But even one enemy is too many!Akrom MALIK
Comments
No comments yet. Be the first.