The mind is stunned by the tricks of the nafs,
Satan lies in wait, hidden in every corner. Unable to grasp the Truth, thought and awareness freeze,
Poetry: Wisdom
Poems by Akrom Malik, newest first. Pick one for your mood.
Do not leave yourself, stay within yourself,
And if you leave, it is better to come back to yourself. Do the deeds that befit you,
Do not say you are unhappy — happiness is within you,
Your character and manners are reflected in your life. Peace lies in every word you say, in your speech,
If you say, “I don’t want to carry the grief of the world,”
If you say, “I don’t want to load mountains on my shoulders,” If you say, “I don’t want to taste poisons every day,”
As they grow older, the wise slowly
Begin to tie up the knot of their words. Smiling calmly at those who come and go,
Be a good person, be a good person,
Let your face be smiling, be gentle and good-natured. Reach perfection, become full like the moon,
Would I ever want you to grieve?
Do I need the pains of your heart? Would I press you to a task beyond your strength?!
If he has read half a book, so to speak,
It turns out he has read half a page of an article. Thinking himself a scholar, he holds forth,
Your being alive, your very soul and spirit —
It is the wellspring of torment and of wonder. You are made of it — it is your all, your everything,
If your teacher is pleased, your rank is lofty,
Earth and heaven will bow to you and praise you. But if your teacher is grieved, happiness is forbidden you,
Crying “Freedom of thought!”, crying “Freedom of speech!”
He demands that others tolerate his thoughts. This, too, is a trait peculiar to the crowd —
Betrayal comes from two kinds of people —
Either a bastard, or a slave of base descent. For it is those of pure descent who grasp the word of Truth,
A youth, as he was growing up, back then,
Would dream of strength and might. Meeting an elder, he asked a question:
Between truth and lies there is a wall, but
This wall is silken, transparent and soft. If all your life you do not keep away from lies,
Poetry, surely, is the work of two people,
The shared work of the poet and the reader. If the poet is a master of his art,
For the world to go along its proper way
Every particle must stand in its own place. And for a person’s happiness to be complete
O youth! O you who are carried off by the wind,
O you who have not yet tasted the bitter and the sweet! You who say, “I have wings upon my shoulders,”
A youth in the prime of life went to a knower of God
And bowed his head before him in respect. He said: “O master of the garden of wisdom,
Sometimes one must cut, and sometimes chop,
Let the patient scream with pain. Show no pity. To find the healing hidden in the pain —
A man once praised himself so much,
Though no one could tell that it was praise. On hearing him, the crowd was struck with awe,
If everyone praises you, you had better flee,
Praise is a fire that is lit for your soul. Stay quietly within your limit, like the soil,
There are all kinds of people in the world, after all,
To know each one of them is impossible, impossible. For one may wear a mask, his insides full of filth,
The wife of a certain scholar and saint
Had a bitter tongue and a very hard nature. Without the least embarrassment, defying her husband,
Wandering bewildered through the steppe of doubt,
A youth came upon a man of wisdom. Feeling sincere respect within his heart,