myislamislove: sufi woman (Default)
A QASIDA OF IBRAHIM TUSI (1350 A.D.) [Note: A qasida is an elegiac poem with a tripartite verse structure]. I. How well do you know this mysterious Fitra? And where doth her magnificent clarity come from? Does she belong to the highest pre-eternal essence, does she manifest the attributes of the name, or is she the phenomenal form of the veil? II. Is she the sacred flame of the torch? Or the glass lantern of the glowing light? Or the revealing clarity of the radiating star whose glittering scintillas ignite the olive tree? III. Doth the oil ignite itself in her splendor? Or does her splendor come from a pre-existent fire? Yea! It was her will which rose before the well-guided (Wohlgeleiteten) to direct them by the clarity of her Mohammedean light—those who had come to power in her houses. IV. Her houses are true temples which speak of the Name which is recognized beneath the essential veils. From her arises the confounding of the Name with the Bab, a secret and sacred phenomena. V. From her arose shadows, the spiritual forms of future mankind, and the day of Mithaq where spirits nestled together to hear the divine lector proclaim to the elect the revelation of our luminous masters. VI. Through her we have experienced the phenomenon of life, through her Adam was venerated (by the Angels): and through her there was the pact—the divine bond—along with the sublime and magnanimous witnesses who proclaimed the uniqueness of the Godhead when they saw him (Ali), those big-bellied and the bald. VII. She is the image before which one prostrates oneself; she is the highest proof and touchstone for the unbeliever who revolts, who denies God by saying I (“I am more worthy!”)— before being cast down by his cowardice into the ranks of the damned. VIII. This sublime appearance would not be recognized by the ignorant, who remain shut off. But those who obey her shall be redeemed and honored in the paradise of delights among the lords of all creation. IX. She is the strong grip, the word that cuts; from her comes the brightness which separates light from darkness—for she has divided and split the world—here the redeemed, there the vanquished—and never the twain shall meet. X. She is the tree with twelve branches whose fruits have been cultivated in secret since the beginning of time, preserved for the elect in measured share, those leaders of seekers and lovers. XI. She is the sanctuary of paradise with the Tuba tree, she is the source of Salsal, that exquisite drink of which never satiates, which heals hearts and grants every wish to the learned and the wise. XII. She is their residence built since eternity, their majestically towering shelter. She is the raging sea, the light of the Name, the book which conceals within itself all wisdom, of which the text of the Koran is but an outer cover, a distant echo. XIII. She is the Aqsa Mosque of Jerusalem where the elect and the sacred have ascended to honor the Unique and the Merciful, the situs irradiated by the streaming clarity which pours forth from the luminous stars. XIV. She is the one who nurtures all creatures at her breast without ever weaning her children or diminishing the abundance of her bosom. She bestows her gifts upon all who seek the truth and the genuinely essential, and upon those who are radiant masters. XV. It was through her that Cain abandoned the right path; she was Abel’s fire sacrifice, a divine symbol enshrouded in flame to testify against the wicked. XVI. She is the rock from which the twelve springs have their source, the impeccable pearls—Imāms of pure knowledge—preserved for those inflamed with love for her, and who drink out of her chalice. XVII. She is the (reddish) cow of the white bāqir, thanks to which the innocent were redeemed from death. Upon being reproached they said: “This is what killed me, I recognize it.” Truth appeared to Moses, who openly proclaimed it. XVIII. She is the night of power which enjoys glorious renown, her endurance is longer than a thousand moons; here the angels and spirits climb down to earth, and, forsooth, divide the fate of men according to their angelic directive. XIX. Her light darkens the sun’s gifts when her full moon comes to term, occulted by three veils, three silent veils; and Mohammed leads them with words and directions. XX. She is the substance of her name—“the holy”—the “creatrix of incarnation”—her veil indicates divine ambiguity, and its borrowed light shines for the elect by night. XXI. And on the day that the prophet vanished (i.e. as he died), he appeared afresh within her; suffused with eloquence, she became the veil which enraptures those of wisdom and reason, and by the source of the master of revelation (Ali), she became the singular and highest ontological essence. XXII. She is the one whose mysteries became visible to us on the day of fadak; castles and fortresses trembled as she opposed the wicked, and all surrendered their heaving scourges to make peace with Ali. XXIII. But Ali pacified them when he saw them tearing their souls. And he said: “Steady! Be calm! Your fate is as near as the breaking dawn, and like the day, the judge will appoint them to appear before him. XXIV. And she returned, smiling, back to her house, both Hassans following her. Her enemies, unsuspecting, will soon be plummeting into the burning fires of hell.
myislamislove: dervish gold (dervish gold)
 What a Human Is, Now I Know
by Muhittin Abdal
English version by Jennifer Ferraro & Latif Bolat
Original Language Turkish
They're always talking about human, human --
     What a human being is, now I know.
They are always discussing heart, the heart --
     What the heart is, now I know.
Within the heart of the believer it was found --
     it wasn't found anywhere outside.
We found it in our own vast selves.
     What faith is, now I know.
This is how they pick the wheat from the chaff,
     and where your words and deeds must speak for you.
This is where the wise ones guide the Path --
     What the essence of this Sufi way is, now I know.
What the pious fearful carry like baggage,
     why they shoot their arrows at the faithful,
What they hide and trumped in nice language --
     What doubt is, now I know.
Given all these attributes, I became a person.
     Through God's vastness I was forgiven everything.
I found absolute oneness with Reality.
     What the guest is, now I know.
I said to my inner self Be humble,
     and the Glorious One showered me in blessings;
There was a sign that seared me in the heart.
     What the proof is, now I know.
Muhittin proclaims the Truth is a spectator.
     God is everywhere if you are willing to see.
What is the hidden, what is the apparent --
     What a human being is, now I know.
-- from Quarreling with God: Mystic Rebel Poems of the Dervishes of Turkey, Translated by Jennifer Ferraro / Translated by Latif Bolat
myislamislove: sufi woman (Default)
 English version by Th. Emil Homerin
Original Language Arabic
By her, I departed to her
     from me, never to return;
          one like me never speaks
               of coming back.
Kindly I secluded my soul
     away from my departure;
          never again did I allow it
               to be my companion.
Then I was made to disappear
     from where my soul stood apart,
          that no attribute could appear
               to crowd me in my presence,
And I was made to witness
     my absence when she appeared,
          so I found me, her there,
               in the bridal chamber of my seclusion.
In my witnessing, my existence
     was cast off, and I was far
          from the existence of my witnessing,
               effacing, not transfixing.
I embraced what I witnessed
     by bearing witness to it
          in the effacement of my witness,
               now sober after my drunkenness.
In the sobriety after effacement,
     I was none other than her,
          my essence adorned my essence
               when she removed her veil.
myislamislove: sufi woman (Default)
 Today, like every other day,
we wake up empty and frightened.
Don't open the door to the study and begin reading.
Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.


myislamislove: sufi woman (Default)
(English adaptation by Martin Lings)
Full near I came unto where dwelleth
Layla, when I heard her call.
That voice, would I might ever hear it!
She favored me, and drew me to her,
Took me in, into her precinct,
With discourse intimate addressed me.
She sat me by her, then came closer,
Raised the cloak that hid her from me,
Made me marvel to distraction,
Bewildered me with all her beauty.
She took me and amazed me,
And hid me in her inmost self,
Until I thought that she was I,
And my life she took as ransom.
She changed me and transfigured me,
And marked me with her special sign,
Pressed me to her, put me from her,
Named me as she is named.
Having slain and crumbled me,
She steeped the fragments in her blood.
Then, after my death, she raised me:
My star shines in her firmament.
Where is my life, and where my body,
Where my willful soul? From her
The truth of these shone out to me
Secrets that had been hidden from me.
Mine eyes have never seen but her:
To naught else can they testify.
All meanings in her are comprised.
Glory be to her Creator!
Thou that beauty wouldst describe,
Here is something of her brightness
Take it from me. It is my art.
Think it not idle vanity.
My Heart lied not when it divulged
The secret of my meeting her.
If nearness unto her effaceth,
I still subsist in her substance.
-Shaykh Ahmad al-‘Alawi


myislamislove: sufi woman (Default)

With my Beloved I alone have been,

When secrets tenderer than evening airs 

Passed, and the Vision blest 

Was granted to my prayers, 

That crowned me, else obscure, with endless fame; 

The while amazed between 

His Beauty and His Majesty 

I stood in silent ecstasy 

Revealing that which o'er my spirit went and came.

Lo, in His face commingled 

Is every charm and grace; 

The whole of Beauty singled 

Into a perfect face 

Beholding Him would cry, 

'There is no God but He, and He is the most High.' 

Rabia al Basri

In My Soul

Dec. 9th, 2015 06:11 pm
myislamislove: sufi woman (Default)

Ani Zonneveld's website

The song's lyrics are based on a poem from Rabia al-Basri, a very famous centuries old Sufi poet.

In My Soul,
by Rabia al Basri

my soul
there is a temple, a shrine, a mosque, a church
where I kneel.

Prayer should bring us to an altar where no walls or names exist.

Is there not a region of love where the sovereignty is 
illumined nothing,

where ecstasy gets poured into itself
and becomes

where the wing is fully alive
but has no mind or 

my soul
there is a temple, a shrine, a mosque,'
a church

that dissolve, that 
dissolve in






myislamislove: sufi woman (Default)
My islam is Love

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