Banker's rhyme

Courtesy of my friend - the banker who is too shy to use his name.

This poem will likely be short, Compared with usual size. These days I am more into sport Than chasing a poetry prize.

Plus, everyone’s cutting expenses, And so – to follow the trend – I’ll have to cut down on pencils And time I am able to spend.

It feels like the year has been taxing (Or that’s what we’ve read in the press) – Some bankers are now relaxing, Economies are in a mess,

The sterling has never been lower, Stock markets have plunged in a trough, At Harrods the trading is slower, Cost cutting is huge. It is tough!

If only the Founding Fathers Could see how bad it would get – The news of collapsed Lehman Brothers, Insolvencies, crises and debt,

GM is in public possession (Well, this is what they have proposed!), Most countries have entered recession, With lay-offs no longer opposed.

Toyota has witnessed first losses, You can’t get the credit required. Where ARE all these capable bosses? – Took pension, sold out and retired?

Enough. This is very depressing! I’d rather change rhythm with your blessing. Perhaps, this unparalleled drama Will soon be all over – Obama

Is going to start his new function! He knows where to move from this junction. Don’t worry – the path may be curled But Brown is “saving the world”!

This logic appears quite weak. Yet, outlook isn’t that bleak: Let’s think of some other dimensions, Beyond the accepted conventions.

The world has gone terribly flat. It’s time to get rid of some fat, Scrub down the Ponzi tattoo, And slash the released CO2.

We are in a different mood, But will our world be less good? Less interesting, bright or romantic? Will weather get worse in Atlantic?

Credit crunch has hit the money, What has changed in other spheres? Will the pastures be less sunny? Are there any fewer deer(s)?

Will the standards drop at school? Will the beds become less soft? Is still leading Liverpool? Will go bankrupt Microsoft?

None of this will happen yet, Armageddon is no threat! Road ahead is very clear: We will hardly disappear!

The boom has lasted more than ever But led some countries into fever. They will recover, no doubt. Just panic not – we’ll get through drought!

Remember when you had a break? It’s what our markets need to take. Without further hesitation, Let’s let the Progress take vacation!

My Answer to Rudyard Kipling

From Rudyard Kipling

Take up the White Man's burden—
Send forth the best ye breed—
Go, bind your sons to exile
To serve your captives' need;
To wait, in heavy harness,
On fluttered folk and wild—
Your new-caught sullen peoples,
Half devil and half child.

Do not take up again this burden

Do not set forth your sons anymore

The World was the captive of the White Race once

But today we are free and chaotic - free like before

Your medicines may save our children-

But to you we are primitive beasts, half cooked, half raw

No desire we have to serve at your table

And dress in Western way, to cover our otherness more

Our otherness is in our souls - and not in ways we speak

Which you do not seem to comprehend, nor want to

So damn you with all your care and charity

And made up compassion for our suffering in peace and war

White Man - burden yourself with other problems

Of which you have plenty. Let us be ourselves, let us be ourselves.

To Women of Iran

This one is from Parvin Etesami - one of the great Persian poets of early 20c century.

A home without a woman lacks amity and affection.
When one's heart is cold, the soul is dead in fear.

Providence nowhere has decreed in any holy book or in discourse
that excellence is man's, impurity is woman's share.

Simplicity, and purity, and being chaste are gems.
Mined gems are not the only brilliant jewels here

What is the use of golden cage if one inside is ignorant and weak?
Gold and jewels will not cover up this faulty atmosphere

Only the robe of abstinence can mask shortcomings of the heart
The robe of passion and conceit is worse than one you have in here

A woman who is pure will never be humiliated, even once
That which is pure crystal will rebuke all hate and fear

Chastity is a treasure, a woman its guard, against the wolf of lust.
Woe if she knows not rules, nor measure of the wolf to fear.

The Devil never will attend the table of your Piety as guest.
He knows that that is no place of feasting. and he will steer clear

Walk on the straight path, since on the alleys crooked
you'll find no provision or a guidance, only remorse, my dear.

Your Hearts and eyes - they need a veil, the veil of chastity.
Worn out Hijab is not the basis of faith in Islam, I am saying clear.

Book of the Spirit

I am in the middle of (actually on the second volume!) going through Great Turkmenbashi's Magnum Opus. It is called Ruhnama or "Book of the Spirit" and I have to admit it is the best book ever written by a crazed dictator. I have read them all - I went through Das Capital (abridged), and Little Red Book by Mao, and (in my youth) through Che's Diaries. I read Qaddafi's Green Book too. But they are all dwarfed by Asiatic splendor of this one. Most of those other books are full practical advice of how to run a dictatorship or start a revolution. Not so Niyazov, who claimed divinity - a rare thing in our day and age. Without breaking away from Islam - he send himself (by a jumbled and incoherent style of the book I assume it was him who wrote, or at least dictated it) on an interesting spiritual journey through mysticism and Islamic heterodoxy. His poetry is childish but sincere in its attempts to deify Turkmen nation and its spirit. Good thing it did not work.

It starts most strongly in the prophetic vein:

This book, written with the help of inspiration sent to my heart by the God who created this wonderful universe I wrote this book containing the nation spirit,
its morality and historical immortality. My dear Turkmen nation, in order to urge your soul and mind to fulfill these duties an to raise a strong faith in your heart for self-confidence, and to be a support to you, I have written this book, Ruhnama. You are the meaning of my life and source of my strength.

More Poetry Please .... Nesimi again

These are my translations of few of Nesimi Rubayi quatrains:

I am a slave of Truth, and bringer I was made of news
By Grace of Allah, bring the His knowledge for you to use
There are so many Worlds – Ten Thousand to be exact
But God is One, and everywhere He is true

*****
Don’t waste your time, as only foolish people can
Do understand: Creation of the world is Man
And in his eyes – The Meaning of the Universe
And everything that God had said and planned

*****
We always look for meaning, always argue in emotion
The Ignorance is Enemy. It can destroy – so hear my caution
Lo! Hear those who understood of Love, who cry. For them
An Ocean into teardrop changed, and drop became an ocean.

And this translation courtesy of Poetry Chaikahana which I did not have time to over.

I'm thought and beauty. I am attributes. I am desire.
I am the portrait, and the lover charmed by it I am.
I am the balm and doctor, the recovery and pain.
The sufferer the relief of suffering I am.

I am the Holy Book, its letters, he to whom God spoke.
The word, the one who spoke it and the argument I am.
The bearer of the cup I am, the wineseller, the drunk.
The spring of Heaven, the winepourer, the wine and cup I am.

I am much-repeated prayer. I am hypocrisy.
I am the one-God faith and of that the flame I am.
I am the Joy-provider, the All-merciful, the Wise.
Beatitude, Eternity and Paradise I am.

Know God, acknowledge him, Nesimi! You are mankind's son
And I am he who did receive from God the name of Man

Happy Muslim Year 1429 indeed.

Mood of the day

I must obey the rules
I must be tame and cool
No staring at the clouds
I must stay on the ground
In clusters of the mice
The smoke is in our eyes
Like babies on display
Like angels in a cage
I must be pure and true
I must conceal my views
There must be something else
There must be something good
Far away – not here – far away.

Logical Song

Sometimes music lyrics set and also represent one’s mood so perfectly one wonders if they have listened to you complaining. This time it is Supertramp:

When I was young, it seemed that life was so wonderful,
a miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical.
And all the birds in the trees, well they'd be singing so happily,
joyfully, playfully watching me.
But then they send me away to teach me how to be sensible,
logical, responsible, practical.
And they showed me a world where I could be so dependable,
clinical, intellectual, cynical.

There are times when all the world's asleep,
the questions run too deep
for such a simple man.
Won't you please, please tell me what we've learned
I know it sounds absurd
but please tell me who I am.

Now watch what you say or they'll be calling you a radical,
liberal, fanatical, criminal.
Won't you sign up your name, we'd like to feel you're
acceptable, respectable, presentable, a vegetable!

Imadeddin Nesimi - Engish translation is mine

My translation of Imadeddin Nesimi from Azeri.

Both worlds within me coexist , but this one World cannot contain me.
An omnipresent pearl I am and both those Worlds cannot contain me.

Because in me both Earth and Heaven and Creation's “BE!” were found,
Be silent! For there is no language which contains me.

Through doubt and fear no one is a friend of God and the Truth.
The man who fears dishonours God, and fear does not contain me.

Pay due regard to form, acknowledge it, because the Body and the soul I am,
but soul and body, both, do not contain me.

I am both shell and pearl, the Doomsday scales, the bridge to Paradise.
With such a wealth of wares, those worldly goods do not contain me.

I am “the hidden treasure” that is God. I am his open Eye.
I am the jewel of the Land. The sea , the Land tey don't contain me.

Although I am the boundless sea, my name is Adam, I am a Man.
I am Mount Sinai of this greeat Earth. This wretched Earth cannot contain me.

I am both Soul and Word as well. I am an Era and an Epoch, too.
Remember this : The Place and Time cannot contain me.

I am the stars, the sky the angel, revelation come from God.
So hold your tongue and silent be! There is no tongue that can contain me.

I am the atom, sun, four elements, five saints, dimensions six.
Go seek my attributes! All explanations cannot contain me.

I am the core and attribute, the flower, sugar and sweetmeat.
I am the Night of Power, Great. No tight-shut lips can contain me.

I am a burning bush. I am the rock that rose into the sky.
Observe this tongue of flame. There is no tongue of flame that can contain me.

My understanding of Wahdat-al-wujud

My understanding of Wahdat-al-wujud on this Friday sermon.

An everlasting moment…
Is He a Light of the Lamp, and
Do I breath through His breath
Have I died of His Hand
An eterninty - concept so ill-defined
Have I lived through it before …
Multiple levels of being, and more
Multiple levels of time, space and senses-
First comes the Angel’s abode
Then the jinn, their two-dimensional tenses
Then the Man – a servant, but also a King
Only Man can heed the words that speak into souls
For manifestation of Beauty is His Liking
Beyond the existence of Time
When the Intellect faces Creator – we see the night
He looks into us – we’re consumed by His Light

Goodbye

To green and pleasant land I came to love
Oh, mother melancholy, even in the midst of May
Your avenues and parks in ravenous array
From multitudes of men in Modern Babylon
To hills and forests ‘round a distant farm
To – modest churches where grey heads sing
Where gravestones call to ponder and to think
To people that I met and loved and missed
To people I desired but never dared to kiss
Yes, people make the place worthwile, the air - worth to breath
In coffeehouses, museums and shops
Or bike trips ‘round the park or soirée’ in cinema
I Loved your meek acceptance of our ways
Our bashful parties, of our customs strange for you today
To Kensington and Chelsea, Mayfair, Waterloo
To Kent and Suffolk, Wales and Devon too
To All of them I say goodbye - and so I hope will You

Bliss of Perfection - Gift of Eid

This is a poem of great and wise Fuzuli, who from centuries past addesses our love to Creator. On his day of Celebration I want to give you a present of his beatiful verse. Fuzuli is credited with some fifteen works in Arabic, Persian, and Turkish, both in verse and prose. Although his greatest significance is undoubtedly as a Turkish poet, he is also of importance to Persian literature thanks to his original works in that language (indeed, Persian was the language he preferred for his Shi'ite religious poetry); his Turkish adaptations or translations of Persian works; and the inspiration he derived from Persian models for his Turkish works.
... The fundamental gesture of Fozuli's poetry is inclusiveness. It links Azeri, Turkmen and Ottoman (Rumi) poetry, east and west; it also bridges the religious divide between Shiism and Sunnism. Generations of Ottoman poets admired and wrote responses to his poetry; no contemporary canon can bypass him.

O THOU Perfect Being, Source whence wisdom’s mysteries arise
Things, the issue of Thine essence, show wherein Thy nature lies.
Manifester of all wisdom, Thou art
He whose pen of might Hath with rays of stars illumined
yonder gleaming page, the skies.
That a happy star, indeed, the essence clear of whose bright self
Truly knoweth how the blessings from Thy word that flow to prize.
But a jewel flawed I am indeed, alas, for ever stand I am
Blank the page of my heart’s journal from Thy writing wise.
In this journal of my actions Evil’s lines are black indeed ;
When I think of Day of Gathering’s terrors, blood flows from my eyes.
Gathering of my tears will form a torrent on the Reckoning Day,
If the pearls, my tears, rejecting, He but view them to despise :
Pearls my tears are, O FUZULI, from the ocean of Deep Love ;
But they’re pearls - they are!, oh! most surely, that Love of Allah buys!