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Najwa Kareem Aug 2017
Ramadan 2017 in Sarajevo, Bosnia                      

The first day and the second

What a blessing!!!

Brothers and Sisters in the Old Town speaking the words Salamu Alaikum

Sisters wearing veils with colors like in the bright rainbow appearing before me and my two new friends from Bosnia in a sky above a bussling bazaar, there a smaller group of humans watching and a larger group of tourists capturing a rare moment in Sarajevo on photo

Many brothers wearing kufis and many brothers with trendy hair styles paired with Western outfits gathering in the courtyard of Gazi Husrev-Bey Mosque, the largest in Bosnia and sixteen centuries old. Tourists from Africa, America, Europe, and other landscapes and many locals exchanging words and gestures in a month better than a thousand

Families spending time together at the Grand Mosque and at smaller mosques and in other places surrounded by picturesque hills and green plush trees

A father, a mother, their toddler son...he practicing walking on a masjid's cobblestone, and their young daughter...she smiling at her father as he walks by. Each family member physically at a distance from each other. Each family member at a cell's distance in communion with each other.

In the mid afternoon on a Ramadan's day, a sister from Munich and I having met for the first time at Bey Mosque ride together in a taxi up a steep hill to see a guest house she knows

A smell of lingering cigarette smoke permeating the air within the house so thick beckons me to leave politely and quickly. Unaware of the smell's degree, the owner learns of its' offensiveness as I disclose my sensitivity to & the dislike of the smell of cigarette smoke, both acutely heightened while fasting

Careful steps back down the steep hill to the city center, me avoiding stumbling on a large rock or being runover by a speeding automobile, interestingly instead I stumble upon a beautiful grave yard of uniquely shaped white gravestones and a charming mosque with a high minaret

At the bottom of the hill sits a crafts and artistry shop, one of many in Sarajevo's Old Town. Upon entering and a brief conversation with the owner, a piece of generosity is handed to me, a square shape piece of wood with Ayat tul Kursi in hand calligraphy

During the late afternoon hours, a time for reading Quran by many at mosques in the city. Sisters and brothers sitting on carpeted floors, some with backs supported by mosque walls, some with bodies sitting in chairs, fasters occupied with the most perfected Divine Scripture

A brief leisurely stroll with my two new friends Dzenita and her sister Amina through part of the Bazaar, they sharing opinions of their favorite restaurants, best eating experiences, and other things

In the early evening, a time to buy food to prepare for the Iftar meal. Showing me how it's done in Sarajevo, Dzenita and Amina invite me to join them on an excursion up a hill to buy Somun, a Bosnian flatbread topped with black seeds from the city's famous bread maker. Standing in a line longer than Georgetown Cupcake, Dzenita surprises me with a gift of Somun for myself

Two dates, one cube of Bosnian delight, and one cup of water to break our fast with at the Bey Mosque. A canon bomb sounds off to announce the time for Magrib prayer and Iftar, customary in Sarajevo during Ramadan

Startled and alerted by the bomb's depth and volume, I stand up to join the congregation for communion with God, The God Most Gracious, Most High

Out of nowhere I'm invited to Iftar at a shop nearby the Grand Mosque, about 8 of us guests being served by the warm owner, she offering a meal for Iftar at her shop every night during Ramadan, a big-hearted tradition of hers

Cevapi, Cevapi, Cevapi...I'll say it once more, Cevapi -- sold in Bosnian restaurants, cafes, bazaars, and made in many homes, eaten happily by many fasters at Iftar. Served with freshly chopped onions, some served with a soft white cheese, some with a red peppery sauce, many served with Somun, all ways tried by me and tasting as scrumptious as my first experience with Cevapi in Germany, then falling in love with it

Cold winds at night from the surrounding mountains, a refreshing air yet taking my breath and power away from the chill of it, completely disappearing with my start of Isha prayer with other Muslims and the declaration "Allah hu Akbar"

9 Muftis with impeccable Tajweed each taking turns to recite the words of our Grand Lord before sunrise, me weeping from God's messages, the reality of His greatness, my servitude to Him, and a recognition of sounds similar to that of my Mumin Father's, those familiar to me since birth

Three dear sisters, university students from Turkey and I journey together on foot after Fajr from the Old Mosque to a street train, along the way stopping by a community center, our destination - their home an hour or so away to rest, the four of us coming to know each other and each others' thoughts with every step. Contempleting my desire to spend more time in the city over sleep, the three sisters showing great generosity and I embrace and exchange Salams at a stop near the main station, the three walking with me to an open place before continuing on

In the land of a marriage between the East and the West and where newspaper is used to clean a cafe window, on the list of to-dos -- shopping for gifts for family and for souvenirs, window shopping done along the way, asking myself Shall I buy a Dzezva, a hand-made Bosnian coffee set, or a vintage wood Sarajevo box, or a woven wallet, or Bosnian sweets.

In a bazaar walkway, Maher Zain's song "Ramadan" playing loudly. At another moment, lyrics about a month of devotion and sacrifice from Sami Yusuf echoeing. Shop owners in Old Town with dispositions of calm and quiet grace greeting me and others cordially and respectfully. Shopping a few hours more until near sunset for post cards with a real version of the Grand Mosque, finding only less than satisfactory versions. Time running out for shopping, another reason now to return to Bosnia, God-Willing

Magrib prayer a second night at the Gazi Husrev-Bey Mosque. Observing the crowd, a striking occurrence taking place, a teenage boy walking a small length behind a man on to the mosque carpet. There the boy approaches an older man giving him a respectful hand shake. After prayer, a native of Sarajevo shares with me in wholesome conversation, "You are known in the town not by what you have. You are known by how well you behave."

Another invitation, this time for a cup of a tea at a cafe. Overflowing with people mostly young adults, men and women sitting at tightly packed small tables inside and a few outside, conversations merging into each other with a loud volume flowing throughout, Shisha being smoked by some, cigarettes by some, smoke in the air and the temperature inside melting away heavy make-up on sisters' faces. "This is Ramadan in Sarajevo." Madia says. "One aspect of it." says I. Not having a good feeling right away when walking in and not wanting to stay, the two of us leave quickly.

My two new friends Dzenita and Amina aka angels of hospitality and kindness reciprocating my gift to them of Milka chocolate give me a gift before departing the next day. "Tespih!!" A burnt red and yellow colored set with sparkingly gold thinly cut wrapping paper looking stripes purchased at the Gazi Husrev-Bey Mosque gift shop. Not knowing then I collect Tesbih, their gift is now my most favorite of my Tesbih collection

Husbands and wives, men and women both young and old, well-groomed and well-dressed, some holding hands as they stroll through narrow pathways in the Old Town on a Ramadan's night. Families talking and eating at restaurants, friends in groups sharing laughs, so much to see, so much to experience. At a cafe where baked goods, ice cream, and other sweets are sold, a lady sitting with a group of others initiates speaking to me, stopping me in my tracks. Bidding me farewell, she extends me a gracious compliment

Ramadan 2017 in Sarajevo, Bosnia to Remember

The first day and the second

What a blessing!!!

by Najwa Kareem
Vladimir Lionter May 2020
I

Imam Shamil who grew in mountains’
Region, valued all his life Liberty, spaciousness
Preferring to gold good deeds, after that
He turned the whole Caucasus into Imamat.

The imam joined the mountains’ peoples
Not in vain, he waged war the tsar’s Empire with,
And he said it’s better to die battle giving
Than to be a despised slave being living.

He could not find peace for many years,
And every day he led his Murids,
To battle, all the warriors got to know,
His spirit in battle under Ahulgo.

The imam was praised by the Persian shah,
His deeds carried the good will of Allah!
And if you permit me, reader, we will
Open all Shamil’s exhortation’s will.

Any part here’s a small story true,
Ignorance’s always decay, dust anew.
I am sure it may happen one day that
Wisdom can prove useful to your mind.




II

How many years have passed after that
When Shamil happened to drive subject at?
He wanted to make his children understand,
It isn’t worth speaking with any drunkard.

He said: “Once the Murid was walking
And found a drunkard under the tree lying,
“Get up!”the Murid cried at him, indeed,
“You can’t drink so if you are Shiit!””

That drunkard looked at him by a glass glance
As if he were not working at wall, the man chance.
The Murid asked  him: “How dare you live so?
Allah prohibited us to drink long ago!”

The drunkard answered him: “I mind my own business,
Let a ban be placed on it a hundred timed. Yes!”
That drunkard forgot the truth of the Koran,
The mind stuck in that argument as the mutton.

If only you look at it from  the sides all,
This parable’s sense’ll be single after all,
Discourse is bad with an inadequate
Person, it’s like talking to the wall, indeed.  

III

Everybody knew one language once,
Every  beast got used to association, at last.
And every beast studied language that
The bear used the bull as brother to understand.

Once walked the fox, the wolf and the lion to get
Dinner—to the nearest country  cattle- shed,
In which there was a mutton at that moment
He died in battle from wounds the lion rendered.

But how our heroes  to live now?
And to share their  legal dinner how?
As beasts’ tsar the lion began the food’s sharing,
The wolf took food a bit prudent become having?

Beasts’ brave tsar began to fight with him,
However, the fox was the sliest thing,
And that slyness saved her, after all,
She took the mutton to her own hole.  
  

IV

Once upon a time there lived
Father who most of all his children loved,
Two kind, twin brothers—one and another
One were th’splitting images of their father

The brothers yielded each other in nothing,
They were matched for each other in everything
They were in power to shoot as snipers,
And as Dzigits to ride as no one else/

Suddenly the foe came to their aul as
The conqueror. And Naib took  father’s
Sons with him and any of the brothers
Wanted damask steel to cut heads off shoulders.

But their father had an only sword,
In old times being young and naïve he chopped
His foes by it, and his sons anyway
Had to buy a sword to enter Naib’s array.

The sword bought was shining as emerald—
A master foreign worked at it too hard,
He covered its haft with gold thinnest—
Then that damask steel was very expense!

One brother took that foreign sword with
Him, another one took his father’s
Sword that turned out to be the safest,
Battles years verified safety its.

But the first brother told him: “I’ll bid
Defiance to shaitan himself, indeed!
It is all nothing to me having such
A new sword, I am making of it much!”

But his beloved brother did not agree
With him:”I’m madly glad to hear it but, you see,
By mastership the warrior always wins,
Then the sword plays important role its.”

After battle he came home native with
Father’s sword and grandfather’s shield, arm’s use is
Not in its charms, we need to know it,
The dead brother came back upon his shield.  



V

Once upon a time there lived an old
Man, my teacher, besides, the wiser called
Jamalutdin. When I was ten years,
He gave me a piece of priceless advice:

“Do always respect all people, please, but
At times against something  yourself regard,
Altruism and excessive toil’ ll wear out
Your organism, mind it in no flat!”

At early dawn do your morning exercises
And always sweep the yard by your own house
And then run perkily after the herd,
Health striving for something more is for what?”

And I have been following his example since
Then—I’m not afraid of cholera’s viruses,
Although I’ve been over forty for a long
Time, I’m the strongest of the same age persons among.

VI

God’s not the assistant of all our deeds,
Although we accuse him of our sins,
As our wise men do always tell us:
We all are our fates’ smiths  to the last.

Now and then we envy the rich’s receipts,
To our names when we don’t have copecks,
Now and then we ourselves’re guilty in
Our constant poor life bearing.

Now and then we waste our lives
Gifting our own youth to holidays,
Strong drinks’ drunkenness is always luring us
We are living not setting goals, alas.

VII

Once Basangur walked with me on mountains—
We walked together to Benoi, aul his,
A beautiful wife happened to meet us,
He was crazy about her to the last.

He was fascinated by her eyes’ blackness,
To describe her—there were not enough phrases!
There was not a nicer girl in the whole Caucasus
And then she met cordially her guests.

Ten years passed since then, and there weren’t
Letters from Basangur too of old,
Allah settled everything in his fate—
Gazi- Muhammed took him to his estate.

Basangur was ready for everything—
In the name of Allah he was chopping
His foes and in battle he lost his hand
And an eye of his was once knocked out.

A year after troubles came to the house:
The cannon- ball tore off his foot at once,
Our naib was taken as a prisoner
By crafty foes. Shamil saved him an hour after.

The Murids delivered him home, he had
Only one foot and only one hand,
But he was living laid by one wall
And whispered: “To die’s terrible on the whole!”

“You won’t die!” wife answered him, “the war has
Made you the *******! But remember just:
You are a beloved husband in my fate!
I won’t quit you in trouble, my honey friend!”

But Baisangur said: “You are still nice and young,
For all men you are dream’s chosen one!
I’m burden to you with all my wounds,
Do quit me, and find your own happiness!”

His wife said bending her head: “My honey,
I must say, you are not too courteous to me—
It is inscribed to both of us by fate
To be together until our death’s date!”



VIII

A sufiy who did read a lot of books
To people’s praise and honor did get use
As noticed once an aksakal old:
He  thought he was the brightest in the world.

He gave people pieces of advice,
How to live, to love, to have a very nice
Time, there were not people in the aul at all,
Who he did not happen to advise this all.

But misfortunes came to him at one time in the past:
He run out of water in his well to the last,
But he was proud to ask for help others,
Though it’s impossible to live without water’s wealth.

He lived without water for four days,
To be thirsty is to be without a fire’s
Life being proud of himself he did not ask
For help he gave up the ghost, alas!

IX

An Iranian shah did love to hunt
Allah always with favour did regard
Him. The shah always caught a lot of game
And never empty- hand he home came.

A falcon was presented him once
From the town called proudly Shiraz,
The falcon from Shiraz on the branch was sitting
And even no once having  taken wing.

The Iranian shah was very much surprised
And the master on birds was invited,
He had to reveal the secret of the bird’s
Not being able to fly afterwards.

And that master cut off the brunch off the tree,
And suddenly the falcon soared in its free
Flight, now and then to soar from happiness,
It’s necessary for us to change our lives!


X

In the world there lived so long a wise man,
He kept so many mysteries, information’s mine,
And once I had dinner together with
Him and he did tell me a story of his.

He was young and he wanted to understand
Life and he had a goal to succeed it and
The globe’s being round his being
Ignorant in  his trying its edge reaching.

All his life he walked through woods, mountains
He got through a hundred countries seeing wonders ,
He met his future wife  being on his way,
And he led her to his dream one day.

And he walked so in forty years’ course,
Absolutely grey, he understood the Earth
Had no edge, it’s terrible to live
With a beloved wife by dream deceiptive.

XI

Shamil gave children some paper’s sheets, and
Everybody was ready to write,
The imam said: “Turn over your sheets, please,
And describe your reverse sides’ appearance. ”

The sons saw on each side black smudge’s traces
Be visible in their paper’s sheets’ centres,
And each of them began to describe in prose
How he could, what was like that spot, of course.

In the smudge one saw woods and mountains,
Another one saw wide spaces at once,
The third one gold and stones,
And father said with grief: “I must say, of course,

I absolutely agree with you, children, but
Only your world is so diverse and
You can’t see mountains’ peaks in the spot
Without describing space’s graying world!

You have described only your spot, but it
Is scanty on each of your paper’s sheet
On shallow misfortune concentrating
Then Life and happiness’ll avoid your being.”

XII

One bourgeois loved just wealth, and all his
Life he just laid up coins valuing his
Granary. He could not live calmly a day
Not to increase some more silver, anyway.

But his income was a dishonest thing,
He drove profit from everything
To obtain always super- profit for wealth,
He was ready to sell his own parents.

He came to the temple—to pray to the skies
For everything what haram denies.
But he wished to become more prosperous,
Praying, he dreamt of to own gold countless.

Then opened wide before him  the skies,
And suddenly came into force wonders.
The rich man got petty as he was, a coward
He turned into green moustashe, that is the plant.

XIII

The Dzhigit happened to win the races,
The lucky man won one of the greatest
Prizes. All those stones would be enough
For him to live comfortably his all life.

Suddenly he met a woman on his way
Sobbing she did tell him on that very day:
“You’ve won a prize exactly, I know it,
Will you help me? Mum’s dying now, indeed.”

Believed he her, gave her all his values
And he did not learn of cheat bad piece of news
At once when friends came to meet him he told
The following to all his comrades old:

“Now I feel sorry for nothing, there is
No ill man, of the doctor worrying’s needless,
That’s why I’m so mad from happiness,
Because of having such ever- beloved friends!”

  
XIV

Allah told us to love our mothers,
He may punish all of us for love’s absence.
She does not know any dearer things
Than her beloved children’s stolen glances.

My great- grandmother lived  for a hundred years—
She was wise and was full of happiness.
Once I asked her reading my grammar:
”In what’s your secret, dear, great- mother?”

“My Shamil”, then her answer followed,
“My eyes’ light, there is no secret.”
“But how can you do tell me, please, live,
As young at all not knowing any grief?”

“I’ll never leave my dear people in
Trouble, I live a grudge never nursing,
In my heart I mark always all my good deeds!”
My great- grandmother was such full of kindness.
  

XV

“Here I’ve finished the cycle of parables,
Thank you for hearing out their sense!
Fairy- tales, though, far from true, teach good lads,
Dzigits, let tale a lesson teach them, thus.”

I told of what father, grandfather knew, there
Are no fables created by the Lord, wiser.
The East’s whole wisdom is coming to the same—
The prophet’s all saint thoughts, intentions on them.

And his stories’ thread having accomplished,
The imam Shamil stopped speaking if  did
His doctrine happened to reach all souls—they
Understood exhortation’s wisdom one day.
{2019}

1. Ahulgo’s assault is a military operation conducted by the “Chechen” detached forces of the Separate Caucasus corps of the Caucasus army under the general- lieutenant Grabbe’s command, the aim of which was the imam Shamil’s Headquarters’ blockade and capture, the very Headquarters that were situated in the aul called Ahulgo on the plateau of the same name in Dagestan. The assault happened in July- August in 1839 and it lasted in 80 days’ course.
2. Gazi- Mohammed’s philosophy’s followers seeking for purification from sins by means of sacred war for faith against the Russians were called the Murids. The Murids can be translated as “seeking for the way of saving”. Muridism doesn’t differ from classical Islam in rites and philosophy.
3. Jamaluddin Kazi- Kumuh (1788, or 1792, Kumuh- 1866, Istanbul) is Dagestani spiritual and public agent, scientist, Nashkabad tericat’s sheih, the imam Shamil’s tutor.
4. Baisangur Benoe. Chechnya’s national hero. The imam Shamil’s Naib. By 1846 he had lost his hand and eye in battle, and in 1847 in battle for Gergebil his foot was torn off by the cannon- ball. According to the people’s  legend he could not hold on to the saddle and he was tied to the horse.
5. Gazi- Muhammad (Gazi- Muhammed) is Dagestan’s first imam, a Muslim scientist and theologian, the Montagnards’ Weyrleader in fight against the Russian Empire.

НАСТАВЛЕНИЯ ИМАМА

I

Имам Шамиль, что вырос в крае гор,
Ценил всю жизнь свободу и простор,
Предпочитал дела благие злату
И весь Кавказ он сделал имаматом.

Народы гор имам сплотил не зря,
Ведь вёл войну с Империей царя.
И говорил, что лучше смерть в бою,
Чем быть рабом презренным жизнь свою.

Не находил он много лет покой
И каждый день водил мюридов в бой.
Узнали все бойцовский дух его,
Когда был дан им бой при Ахульго. ¹

Хвалил имама и персидский шах –
Благоволил в делах ему Аллах!
И с твоего, читатель, позволенья
Откроем мы Шамиля наставленья.

Любая часть здесь – маленькая быль.
Всё, кроме знаний – это тлен и пыль!
Уверен я: возможно, так случится,
Что мудрость эта в жизни пригодится!

II

Как много лет уже прошло с тех пор,
Когда Шамиль вёл этот разговор.
Своих детей хотел он вразумить –
Не стоит зря с нетрезвым говорить.

Он говорил: «Мюрид² однажды шёл
И пьяного под деревом нашёл.
«Давай вставай! – вскричал ему мюрид –
Нельзя так пить, уж если ты шиит!»

Стеклянным взглядом пьяный тот смотрел,
Как будто был и вовсе не у дел.
Мюрид ему: «Как смеешь ты так жить?!
Нам запретил Аллах в Коране пить!»

Ответил пьяный: «Мне и дела нет,
Пусть сотню раз наложен был запрет!»
Ведь позабыл тот пьяный про Коран.
Мюрид увяз в том споре как баран.

Со всех позиций, как тут ни взглянуть,
Единой будет притчи этой суть:
С неадекватным дискурс будет плох –
Ведь смысла нет об стену бить горох!»

III

Когда-то знали все один язык,
И каждый зверь к общению привык:
И зверь любой язык тот изучал –
Медведь быка как брата понимал.

Однажды шли лисица, волк и лев –
Добыть обед – в ближайший сельский хлев.
В котором был на тот момент баран.
Он пал в бою тотчас львиных ран.

Но как теперь героям нашим быть
И свой обед законный разделить?
Как царь зверей, делёжку начал лев.
Волк взял кусок, немного обнаглев.

С ним драться стал отважный царь зверей,
Лиса была однако всех хитрей.
И хитрость та её и тут спасла:
Лиса в нору барана отнесла.

IV

Жил-был отец: два сына у него.
Любил он их всегда сильней всего.
Два добрых брата – брата-близнеца
Лицом и телом списаны с отца.

Не уступали брата два ни в чём –
Равны друг другу юноши и во всём!
Они могли как снайперы стрелять
И на конях джигитами скакать.

Нежданно враг пришёл в аул войной.
Наиб берёт сынов отца с собой.
И каждый брат булатный хочет меч –
Срубить врагам голов побольше с плеч.

Но у отца был меч всего один –
Рубил врагов по молодости им.
Пришлось второй меч братьям покупать,
Чтобы войти в наибовскую рать.

Меч покупной блестел как изумруд –
В него вложил заморский мастер труд:
Он рукоять покрыл тончайшим златом –
Был дорогим тот меч тогда булатом!

Взял брат один заморский меч с собой,
И меч отца себе забрал другой.
Отцовский меч надёжнее всего,
Ведь годы битв проверили его!

Но первый брат сказал тогда ему:
«Шайтану вызов брошу самому!
С таким хорошим новеньким мечом
Мне даже он, пожалуй, нипочём!»

Но возразил ему любимый брат:
«Я за тебя всегда безумно рад,
Но воин побеждает мастерством,
А меч свою играет роль потом».

Он после битв пришёл в родимый дом –
С мечом отца и дедовским щитом,
Оружья прок совсем не в красоте –
Погибший брат вернулся на щите.

V

Давно в ауле старец жил один –
Учитель мой, мудрец Джамалутдин.³
Когда мне было где-то десять лет,
Джамалутдин бесценный дал совет:

«Не только всех людей ты уважай,
Но и себя порой оберегай,
Ведь альтруизм и непосильный труд
Твой организм в два счёта перетрут!

Зарядку делай рано на заре
И подметай у дома во дворе.
Беги задорно ты потом за стадом,
Ведь для здоровья большего не надо!»

С тех пор беру с учителя пример –
Мне не страшны все вирусы холер.
Хоть мне давно уже за сорок лет,
Средь сверстников меня сильнее нет!

VI

Не Бог помощник нам во всех делах,
Хотя его виним порой в грехах.
Как говорят нам наши мудрецы,
Своей судьбы мы сами кузнецы!

Завидуем богатым мы порой,
Когда гроша у нас нет за душой.
И в том, что мы бываем небогаты
Порою сами сильно виноваты.

Порой мы жизнь  растрачиваем зря,·        
Всю молодость лишь праздникам даря,
Ведь манит нас напитков крепких хмель,
Мы жизнь живём, совсем не ставя цель!

VII

Раз Байсангур⁴ гулял в горах со мной –
Мы шли вдвоём в его аул Беной.
Встречала нас красавица-жена.
Он от неё был просто без ума.

Пленяла чернота красивых глаз:
Чтоб описать её – не хватит фраз!
На всём Кавказе девы нет милей!
Она радушно встретила гостей.

Прошло с тех пор примерно десять лет.
От Байсангура писем вовсе нет.
Аллах устроил всё в его судьбе –
Гази-Мухаммад5 взял его к себе.

Был Байсангур на всё всегда готов –
Во имя веры он рубил врагов.
Но без руки в бою остался он
И глаз ему проколот был штыком.

А через год пришла беда вновь в дом:
Одна нога оторвана ядром.
Врагом коварным наш наиб пленён,
Но через час Шамилем был спасён.

Мюридами доставлен он домой.
С одной рукой, ногой, но сам живой!
Был у стены положен он поспать
И прошептал: «Как страшно умирать!»

«Ты не умрёшь! – ответила жена –
Тебя калекой сделала война!
Любимый муж, ты всё в моей судьбе!
Я не хочу бросать тебя в беде!»

А Байсангур: «Ещё красива ты –
Для всех мужчин – избранница мечты!
Я – груз тебе с ранением своим.
Бросай меня – счастливой стань с другим!»

Жена сказала, голову склонив:
«Хороший мой, не очень ты учтив –
Нам вместе быть начертано судьбой
И только смерть разлучит нас с тобой!»

VIII

Один суфий, читавший много книг,
К людским хвалам и почестям привык.
Как аксакал один о нём заметил,
Считал себя умнее всех на свете!

Давал советы людям, как им жить:
Как отдыхать, работать и любить.
Людей в ауле не было и нет,
Которым он не дал бы свой совет.

Но как-то раз случилась с ним беда:
В колодце вдруг закончилась вода!
Но он был горд, чтоб помощи просить,
Хоть без воды нельзя на свете жить!

Он без воды прожил четыре дня.
Жить без воды – как в холод без огня!
Гордясь собой, помочь он не просил
И гордый дух от жажды испустил!

IX

Иранский шах охотиться любил –
Ему Аллах всегда благоволил:
Ловил шах много всякой разной дичи –
Не приходил домой он без добычи.

Ему подарен сокол как-то раз
Из города с названием Шираз.
Сидел на ветке сокол из Шираза
И не взлетел за целый год ни разу.

Иранский шах был очень удивлён,
И был по птицам мастер приглашён.
Он должен шаху был раскрыть секрет –
Как так летать у птицы воли нет?

А мастер тот лишь веточку срубил,
Так сокол вдруг немедля воспарил.
Порою, чтоб от счастья воспарить
Нам нужно что-то в жизни изменить!

X

Один мудрец на свете долго жил –
Он много тайн и мудростей хранил.
И как-то раз, когда я с ним обедал,
Старик свою историю поведал:

Он юным был и жизнь хотел постичь –
Поставив цель, желал её достичь.
О том, что кругл шар земной не зная,
Желал дойти он до земного края.

Он шёл всю жизнь чрез горы и леса,
Прошёл сто стран и видел чудеса.
В пути он познакомился с женой –
К своей мечте её повёл с собой!

Так шёл и шёл ещё он сорок лет.
Совсем седой, он понял: края нет.
Не страшно жить обманчивой мечтой,
Когда жена любимая с тобой!

XI

Шамиль дал детям несколько листов –
И каждый был писать уже готов.
Сказал имам: «Листы переверните,
Вид стороны обратной опишите».

Глядят сыны: у каждой стороны
По центру кляксы чёрные видны.
И каждый стал – той прозой, кто как может,
Описывать на что пятно похоже.

Один в пятне увидел лес и горы,
Другой узрел широкие просторы.
Увидел третий злато и каменья,
Отец сказал, однако, с огорченьем:

«Я с вами, дети, полностью согласен,
Но только мир наш столь разнообразен:
Нельзя, увидев в точке пики гор,
Не описав, седеющий простор!

Вы описали только лишь пятно,
Но на листе так мизерно оно!
Зациклившись над мелкою бедою,
Пройдёте жизнь и счастье стороною!»

XII

Один буржуй богатство лишь любил –
Всю жизнь свою монеты он копил.
Не мог ни дня спокойно он прожить
И серебра себе не приумножить!

Но был доход нечестный у него –
Он извлекал богатство из всего.
И чтоб всегда сверхприбыль получать,
Он был готов продать отца и мать.

Он в храм пришёл – молиться небесам,
Ведь делал то, на чём лежал харам.
Но он хотел стать более богатым –
Молясь, мечтал владеть несметным златом.

Над ним тогда разверзлись небеса.
Вдруг начались сплошные чудеса:
Богач мельчал, поскольку сам был трусом,
Растеньем стал – златым зелёным усом!

XIII

Один джигит на скачках победил.
Огромный приз счастливец получил.
Ему хватило всех бы тех камней
Безбедно жить до самых крайних дней.

В пути вдруг встретил женщину джигит.
Ему она, рыдая, говорит:
«Ты выиграл приз – я это точно знаю.
Поможешь мне? Ведь мама умирает…»

Поверил он и ценности отдал.
И про обман не сразу он узнал:
Когда друзья пришли на встречу с ним,
То он сказал товарищам своим:

«Теперь я не жалею ни о чём:
Больного нет – не надо за врачом!
И потому безумно счастлив я,
Что есть со мной любимые друзья!»

XIV

Велел Аллах любить родную мать –
За нелюбовь он может покарать.
Ведь для неё дороже нет на свете,
Чем добрый взгляд, какой даруют дети.

Прабабушка сто лет моя жила –
Она мудра и счастлива была.
Спросил я раз, грамматику читая:
«В чём твой секрет, прабабушка родная?»

«Шамиль ты мой!» – последовал ответ. –
Мой свет очей, секрета вовсе нет!»
– «Но как же ты – почти как молодая
Живёшь сейчас, про горести не зная?»

– «Своих родных не брошу я в беде,
Обиды все пишу я на воде –
Пишу на сердце добрые дела!»
Такая вот прабабушка была!

XV

«Вот и окончен цикл притч моих –
Благодарю, что выслушали их!
Пускай они и ложь, но в них намёк –
Джигитам всем и молодцам урок!

Я рассказал, что знали дед с отцом.
Мудрее притч не создано Творцом.
В них сведены все мудрости Востока,
В них святость дум и помыслов Пророка!»

И завершив своих историй нить,
Имам Шамиль закончил говорить.
Достигло душ детей его ученье –
Они постигли мудрость наставленья!

{16.04.2017}



1. Штурм Ахульго — военная операция, проведённая силами «Чеченского» отряда Отдельного Кавказского корпуса Кавказской армии под командованием генерал-лейтенанта Граббе, целью которой была блокада и захват ставки имама Шамиля в ауле Ахульго, расположенном на одноимённом горном плато в Дагестане, происходившая в июне-августе 1839 года и продлившаяся 80 дней.

2. Последователи учения Гази-Моххамеда, искавшие очищения от грехов путем священной войны за веру против русских, назывались мюридами. «Мюрид» в переводе на русский – "ищущий путь к спасению". Мюридизм не отличался от классического ислама ни в обрядах, ни в учении.

3. Джамалуддин Кази-Кумухский (1788 или 1792, Кумух — 1866, Стамбул) — дагестанский духовный и общественный деятель, учёный, шейх накшбандийского тариката, учитель имама Шамиля.

4. Байсангур Беноевский — национальный герой Чечни. Наиб Имама Шамиля. К 1846 году в боях он потерял одну руку и один глаз, а в 1847 году в боях за Гергебиль ему пушечным ядром оторвало ногу. Согласно народным преданиям, чтобы он мог держаться в седле его привязывали к лошади.

5. Гази-Мухаммад ( Гази-Моххамед) – первый имам Дагестана, мусульманский учёный и богослов, предводитель кавказских горцев в борьбе против Российской империи.

Translator - I. Toporov
Bongiwe Jun 2017
****,
I hope one day I'll reminisce about memories past and shed no tears,for I may have lost a brother but its the world I mourn for most,
for all those who never got to know you.
You brought light to our world,I swear you were my beacon of hope.
somehow, instead of absolute heartbreak, its disbelief i feel.
Almost a month later,
the funeral is over,
I should be okay by now,
but I'm crying still, because its just not fair!
Not fair that a bullet should strip you of your life,
that your son should grow up without a father in his.
I would trade my life for yours in a heartbeat if I could.
You had so much more to give,
a whole life to live,
yet I exist and you're deceased.
This poem I dedicate to my late cousin brother, you were loved.
lala ngoxolo gazi.
Muzaffer Apr 2019
yorgunum angel
evet evet
yorgun

buzul
şakalarına gülemiyorum
dahi antartika'nın

sırtımdaki kılıçlara
kurşun dökeceklermiş
düşmeyi rahatlatmak için
bardakta çekin bari :)


bak
yine sancı girdi geçmiş günlere
her ne hal
gazi konsepti reva görülse de
randevu veremiyorum
sırada ısrar edene

halbuki
okyanus suyundan tarhana
cape town gecelerinden
taze soğan olsa, gelicem kendime
budapeşte sokaklarından

poster poster sevişicem sonra
bir alana, bir bedava
takvim kızı, kapak kızı
patron hediyeli papaz kızı
tril tril mevsimlik
gülecek moher sırtımda

ama
lakin
ve fakat

solgunum angel
evet evet
solgun

stokholm sendromu bu
biliyorum..
kurşunu kendi doldurduğum
verip colt'u ele
hedefe kaz gibi oturduğum..
harry singh Sep 2015
I f you cannot afford to forget
Better do not forget------
But forget you will one day .

If you do not want to forget
Better do not forget-------
But a part of the whole is
forgotten one day .

While the forgetting heart
Gets charred repeatedly
In the burning flame
Of forgetfulness .

What you do ?
The question remains.........

                                      From the collection of Mr Gazi Sadeq, Dhaka
harry singh Sep 2015
Wish to have a taste
Of my love ?
Touch a burning flame .

Get to match the size
Of my love ?
Only the deepest oceans can
Claim .

Like to see the color
Of my love ?
Look at the sunset .

Wish to assess the depth
Of my love ?
Go deep into your heart--
Can you forget ?

                             From the collection of Mr Gazi  Sadeq , Dhaka
Ngiyazi awungibuzanga
Ngiyazi phoqa ukukuhlebela
ngalolu daba olungathi shuu
Nayi.....
Leli jokwe ngilikhethisiwe. Kepha
hhayi ngamandla egendlovu iyangena. Angizitakuli obisini
njengempukane kodwa kuyasho,
ngiziqhelisile kokuningi, ngeqa
ngama buqamama ngomfudlazana.
Ngaketha ukufunana namanzi
acwebileyo. Kwasala inhliziyo
ibalisa, ithi hhawu mfo ka Phakathi
Usho ukuthi lomuzi wethu usuyohlala
unqhunu kanje, kungesena sphalala
esihlekisana naso nenhliziyo yaso"

Hhawu Mpangazitha waze wasibulala siphila, mina Nhliziyo kanye nabafowethu Imizwa siyakhala, buka
nje uhleli uwedwa ubhalana naloludaba olungathi shuu. Ubulalisa
thina ngalesiyasitha sethu Umzwangedwa. Khuluna iqiniso Duma dumane owaduma ezizweni, usho ukuthi awukulangazeleli ukumoyizela kwesi phalaphala. Phela
wena usese yisoka lamanyala ubu dume ukutshakadula nezindoni zamanzi kuphela o Nandi no Dudu.
Uzama ukungitshela ukuthi njengamanje awubuhlungu ngalokhu"

Hhayi bo Nhliziyo mana ngodlame, ufuna ngithi kahle kahle. Phela sisonke kulolu hambho thizeni lwethu. Akekho esingamthanda
ngaphandle kokuthanda thina
sodwa esizinze kulomzimbha.
Ake siyeke ukusukela inyoka
isemgodini.

Hhawu mfo ka Kunu ufanisa uthando
nenyoka, ngaliphi kodwa. Hhayi kodwa ngiyalibona iphuzu lakho,
kokubili kunobuthi.

Ngiyabonga Nhliziyo ngincede ke mfo ka baba ukhumbhuza
abafowenu Imizwa ngaleli jokwe, nobungozi okumele sihlale silugadile.

Ngiyakuzwa Hhawu lweMpisi, mzukulu ka maShenge no Ndlangamandla, thole lakwa Mthabela. Wena othi gazi
emaNtungweni nakwa Malinga.
Mjaji, Ngwane. Madlokovu
Duma ndumane owaduma ezizweni.

— The End —