Your Ummah has been line by line
Their eyes are full of cry
In and outsides are full of light
I have seen dear Prophet
Your garden I have watched
Placed the moment into my heart
At that minute real faith
I have found dear Prophet
At your mosque I stood
To your tomb I stared
Was infinitely inspired
Overflowed dear Prophet
Face to face with Faithfuls
Knee to knee we seated
Let you to us intercede
Kindly please dear Prophet
Lover have found his love
My heart is full of peace
What a blessed road it is
I have passed dear Prophet
Written By Yahya Soyyigit
Translation Onur Ünlü
Let my life for you sacrificed
His name lovely himself lovely Muhammad
Come and intercede to this helpless servant
His name lovely himself lovely Muhammad
Faithfuls suffer in this earth a lot
Hereafter there will be plesure and enjoyment
From eighteen thousand worlds' selected
His name lovely himself lovely Muhammad
Traveler of seven leveled skies
Above bound of Creator flied
In his ascension for Ummah prayed
His name lovely himself lovely Muhammad
Four caliphs are his paradise neighbor
Who is in love with him is away from evil
He is sultan of creations as a whole
His name lovely himself lovely Muhammad
What Dervish Jonah does in here without you
Real prophet without doubt and mistrust is you
Whom don't obey you faithlessly as an infidel go
His name lovely himself lovely Muhammad
Written by Dervish Jonah (Yunus Emre)
Translation Onur Ünlü
Showers of blessings shall fall
He shall stand you tall
In the Towers of mercy
In His Name.
Never to fall.
Forever, stand tall
Because He reigns
We shall reign
Spread love
For His sake.
His' for us
Is never fake.
He is the reason
For the Season
Celebrate and Celebrate
Commemorate have fun as one
He is faithful
Come, en masse
Ye faithfuls
It is Christmas
Celebrate the Season,
For the reason
Come en masse
It is Christmas
Merry Christmas all
nonsense purity
polymer
a squeezing of something
out
a tri fold with scores
of plastic, so necessarily unfulfilled
with pictorials
a social security card,
a card from the merchant marines
with a face
eleven dollars, a fiver
and six ones,
and a diners card
weak elbows,
furrowing brow
the smell of a polish
delicatessen on
his breath
Oh come
all ye faithfuls
Mexico, Poland
Bolivia
He wears a
Movado
Then craves
for bagels
with locks after
playing Polo
Peace!
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent- 38
More the man-made gods the more the quarrel
Who wants to pray in a private night-club
Each faithful thinks his god’s beyond riddle
Where faithfuls gather their gods aren’t idle
Rather would they arm theirs to teeth with club
More the man-made gods the more the quarrel
Strange each nation sports some god from cradle
Nations want exclusive membership club
Each faithful thinks his god’s beyond riddle
All nations dream holding World by bridle
So they give their gods the fossil fumes rub
More the man-made gods the more the quarrel
When words from gods one another needle
Do they hesitate to reach for the club
Each faithful thinks his god’s beyond riddle
Now that gods got our Earth in a throttle
Will ONLY GOD intervene: that’s the rub
More the man-made gods the more the quarrel
Each faithful thinks his god’s beyond riddle
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
To have a better understanding,
Peoples in my view; mind; and heart
Are in three categories: faithfuls my beloved,
Atheists whom I do not hate, they express their inners;
Last category are hypocrites: the damn humanlike lizards and chameleons.
See, the stars are heading towards mars
The faithfuls are hungry over mass
And the nation's treasury needs a political pass.
Broken pieces of human dignity
Lies scattered on the earth of greed.
Able bodied men strangling themselves to feed,
Still corpse leave messages of futility.
To hell to this life of mischief
Life is sweet but so brief.
Hopes must awaken,
Lost glories must be retaken.
Fallen trees must rise
To this call, so be wise.
WHY TROUBLED?
WHY TROUBLED WHEN YOU CAN’T FUMBLE
WHY COMPLAIN WHEN THERE ARE NO CONSTRAINS
WHY DO YOU HUNGER WHEN THERE IS FOOD IN YOUR MOUTH
WHY DO YOU WAIT ANXIOUSLY WHEN YOU ARE ABOUT TO BE GIVEN THE BEST RESULTS
WHY DO YOU BOW YOUR HEART TO SADNESS WHEN HE ALWAYS TICKLE YOU TO LAUGH
WHY DO YOU HATE EVEN THOUGH THE BEST TICKET TO THE HOLY GROUNDS IS LOVE
WHY DO you TELL THEM ABOUT YOUR PROBLEMS WHEN HE IS THE BEST LISTENER
WHY DO YOU FEAR WHEN FEARS CALL HIM THE FEARED
THE ORIGINATOR OF TOMORROW
HE FULFILLS TODAY’S DESTINY
NO ONE FORESAW HIS BEGINNING, HOW MORE HIS END BECAUSE HE MADE EVERY ONE
I AM WRITING ABOUT THE ONE WHO DOES NOT BLINK HIS EYES FOR A SECOND FOR A MOMENT TO ESCAPE HIM
I AM TALKING ABOUT THE ONE WHO IS THE FULL STOP OF EVERY WRITINGS
THE ONE I WRITE ABOUT IS THE ONE UNSEEN BUT ONLY SEEN IN THE HEART OF HIS FAITHFULS
The silky waves of mist caress
the temple, lost in times of dust,
and all the memories of past
within, in silent tenderness.
It's been a long time since in-here
the last steps left as gift their sound,
and on the stony steps around
there's nothing now - no hope, no fear...
*
* *
Sometimes, the dark becomes alive,
and from the corners of the night
a strange and very silent sight
of shadows crawls and wants to strive
against the time...against the pain...
against the future and the past,
against the death...against the dust...
against oblivion's soft chain...
together priest's and faithfuls’ eyes
are looking almost as in trance
at how the ghostly fires dance
and how the ancient temple dies...
*
* *
It's quiet now...a ray of moon
is sliding slowly on the floor...
but no one's walking through the door...
no veiled priestess...no priest...and soon
the sun will rise...the dream will go...
and all the spirits from the past
will let the temple fall and rust
and join in peace the world below...
Cajoled for a perfect kill
carnations were ready to jump for creating
a schism between future and past.
Keeping an eye on moon, a bald maiden
blew herself up in howling night
to slay a group of faithfuls.
Irresolvable it seems, a right to weep
for the dead. You don’t care for
living legends. The drones dive to eliminate
a hardened breed; kids run to collect
the regrets. Sky is overcast anointing the
unborn foetuses
Even a temple aches to shift the deity.
The stair collapses. Youths hide behind
kisses of holy books. A shoe is thrown
on the clock.
SATISH VERMA
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