Spune Iblis:

Who can ever cool down the fire blazing in him?

In whose frenzied uproar,

is hidden the fire storm of Iblis.


[Iblis caută a-și întări veneratorii în credința că Imperiul Răului, scornit de el, este mult prea stabil încât să fie distrus]

Who can ever bend down that age-old tree?

Whose branches have grown so high

because we have watered it!


[Iblis se laudă numai spre a conferi încredere cultiștilor săi; dar știe că Imperiul îi este mult prea slab pentru a înfrunta Adevărul, Nisā, 76: „credincioșii luptă pentru calea lui Allah, necredincioșii luptă pentru calea lui Taghut; luptaţi-vă cu oștile Diavolului, întrucât capcanele Diavolului sunt slabe”]



Taking Issue

All about us dwelled

Seljuks and Turanians,

the Chinese in Khitay,

the Sassanians in Iran,

the Greeks

flourished in their lands

as did the Jews

and the Nazarenes, but

who raised their swords

in Your name? We did.

When chaos knocked at door

we put things right.

Of all Your devotees

it was we who fought

Your fight, on dusty ground

and on sea. We called

the faithful to You

from the churches of Europe,

and from the seething deserts

of Africa.

Not for us the regal afterglow

of victory – all we ever wanted

was to recite the Kalma

under the sweet shade of our scimitars.

All we lived for

were the travails of battle,

all we died for –

the eternal glory of Your name.

Not for us the sway

of unending conquest, nor

were our heads on the line

for worldly gain –

for if we did covet

the treasures of the earth,

would we not have put a price on idols

instead of smashing them?

Who could shake us,

once we stood our ground?

Roaring lions of war

were uprooted from the field.

Heads raised against You

were obliterated. We carved

the Message of Your Oneness

on every heart.

Not just naked blades,

we bore down on cannons;

even with knives at our throats

we proclaimed Your Word.

Tell us, God, who

demolished the portals of Khyber?

Who overran the city

once the pride of Caesar?

Who despoiled

the false creations of idolaters?

Who cut to pieces

whole armies of non-believers?

Who doused

the ever-burning Flame of Iran

and resurrected the story

of the One – Yazdan?

Who are the peoples who declared

themselves true to You,

and forbore every adversity

for Your sake?

Whose swords rose high

above the entire firmament?

To whose Call

did the world quake?

Whose fear

brought the inert to fall

on their faces, affirming You

‘the One, the only One!’

If, in the midst of battle

came the call to pray,

the community of Hijaz

turned away.

Shoulder to shoulder,

Mahmud and Ayaz

faced the Qiblah,

and kissed the earth –

and there was no more slave,

and there was no more master.

Serfs and lords,

those in need, and those

who could provide

became as one in Your court.

From dawn to dusk we roamed,

in halls of time and space

with goblets raised, filled

with the wine of Your Faith.

In mist and in grime

we strove with Your Word,

and did You ever hear

of our failures? We had none.

All lands were as nothing,

we even cleaved oceans,

riding our mounts

to the ends of the earth.

We scoured all falsehood

from the pages of history,

we freed humankind

from bondage and slavery,

we cleansed the Ka’aba

with our foreheads,

and clasped the Qur’an

to our very hearts,

and yet

You call us disloyal?

If we are so faithless, God,

You are no less ungenerous.

Others have religion too,

though some forsake it,

some have humility, others

are drunk on their arrogance.

Some are indolent,

some ignorant, some intelligent,

and far too many

despair of Your Name.

Your grace freely descends

on abodes of strangers,

only the poor Muslims

get struck by lightning.

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