• Ashura del 1 – Poem

    1400 år sedan stod ett slag, ett brutalt sådant slag, i det nuvarande Irak, vid ett område kallat Kerbala, nära den gamla huvudstaden Kufa. Vid Eufrats strand, på kullarna av Kerbala, där stod en man, Hussain, barnbarn till den heliga Profeten Muhammed och med sina 72 män, stod han emot en stormakts arméer. Valet var mellan att lyda Kalifen Yazid I eller att lyda Allah. Det gällde att stå för det goda mot det onda eller vara tyst inför orättvisorna som drabbade människorna.

    Kalifen var en ond man, en alkoholist, en man som hade angripit de heliga städerna Mecka och Medina med katapulter och en stor krigsmakt, han lät avrätta tiotusentals, lät sina män våldta kvinnor, och här stod Profetens barnbarn och stod emot denna tyrann. Med sin död räddade Hussain, islam. Med sitt offer, sin familjs offer, sina anhängares offer, gick han in i  historien som den som räddade islam från korruptionen. Några år senare var Yazid I borta, men Hussains offer är för alltid i våra minnen. Om några dagar börjar denna heliga tid, då vi minns gråter och tänker på detta offer. Sviken av anhängare och släktingar, stod han med ett fåtal trofasta anhängare. Offret påtalades av Ghandi, som ett bevis på det största av tålamod.

    Hussain, ensam vid Kerbala. Jag kommer skriva mera om det här ämnet och blir lätt fanatisk under denna tid, så jag ber redan nu om ursäkt…här kommer en längre dikt om Hussains ståndpunkt..Ashura..Kerbala..Hussaina..

    hussain1

    Hussain was coaxed to change his heart
    Induced, to play that heathen’s part
    Adamant to surrender, though he remained
    Aggression he shunned, conflict abstained.
    Hussain, explicitly, did explain:
    ”Vain, 0′ Yazid, is temporal gain.
    Through calumnious and dissolute ways
    Your prevaricate what the Prophet says.
    Your evanescent, sordid, slippery boon
    will vanish, like a mirage; too soon.
    The morbid manoeuvers; you deploy
    Islam will ruin, the faith destroy.
    Through muddled thinking and notions dark
    On a feckless mission do not embark
    Potentially hazardous whims dispel.
    This mood of bleak despair expel.
    This sense of spiritual emptiness
    By rational thinking do suppress.
    Sanity do not in this bog sink
    And push Islam to disaster’s brink
    Decay of the faith, I do perceive
    The Prophet’s mission I will retrieve.
    Like a looming disc, on the horizon
    Poised is the religion’s setting sun.
    To bury the hatchet, and heal the breach
    I show an olive-branch; peace I preach.
    A vain strife do not provoke
    Save your necks from a hellish yoke.
    Listen to me for goodness’ sake
    (Do not just acquiesce – advice take)

    ”Hussain placated Abbas, with calm:
    Amity’s balm seeks; hurt Islam
    Restrain your wrath, my brother brave,
    A battle, to precipitate, we don’t crave,
    ‘Tis prudent, now to peer ahead,
    Don’t let them act in haste – instead.
    Intellect, sound, they have none
    Antagonism, to them is a thrilling fun
    Nothing is worse than want of zeal
    Its lack can a nation’s fortune seal
    But aimless zeal is folly’s trap
    In wisdom’s fort ‘tis a mighty gap
    Their show of passion is not zeal
    This pseudo-zeal only varlets feel.
    Peoples sans vision were destroyed
    The prudent, e’er, vision employed
    Canting spivs they all are,
    Despicable insensates can’t look far.
    We hope our ”passive defence” does work,
    A ”defence offensive” till last we shirk.
    My cool appraisal of this mess,
    Is a genuine effort to forestall distress.
    The stakes are dreadfully high,
    Staggering results it will imply.
    Erupt will battle – will get worse,
    They crave and yearn for the divine curse.

    Left my bank my honoured guests
    Swamped was I by the swarm of pests.
    Shorn of the honour; I was robbed
    Wept through waves, through swells I sobbed.
    Lamented my ripples, my flow did wail,
    Inherit I did, thus, a dolorous tale.
    Water, my guests were refused, en bloc,
    Agonised I was, distraught, with shock.
    This torrid zone and simmering land,
    None (sans water) could stand
    Capture me if not they did
    To counter the foe’s obnoxious bid
    if access to me they didn’t attempt
    Die of thirst they will, it meant.”

    Abbas, his brother; fearless, grand,
    Thundered, with rage, took a bold stand:
    Proximity of water, deny you can’t
    your witting Caliph’s obnoxious flaunt
    !n sheer buffoonery, arrant nonsense
    Convey to him scorn, intense.
    Pompous pride I abhor, detest,
    Like the prismatic glass ‘tis just a jest.
    His faith is dimmed by the lure of gold,
    And conscience, to rapacity he has sold.
    Drained off is his fount of sense,
    And creed abandoned to vain aberrance.
    Padlocked his brains, and mind is packed,
    Deposed his prudence, judgement sacked.
    An egregious scamp, pretentious fool,
    Egoism’s caricature, asininity’s toot

    The river he saw at paces few
    (The horizon scanned – had none in view)
    With the flag held high, he forward pressed,
    The dauntless cham his command stressed.
    Advanced; across the terrain he swept,
    Enlarged the territorial gain (and kept)
    The capture of the rill was underway,
    (A feat stupendous – least to say)
    The rill capture he did, with ease,
    (The ”squatters” aberrant ”lease” did cease)
    The stream, repossessed, he firmly held,
    (Thus showed how right at might excelled)
    His ”post-repossession” earnest stance,
    His eminence (further) did enhance.
    (The priorities, apt, his balanced move
    His sound judgement amply prove)
    The rill captured (and the sway restored)
    With a firm resolve own drought ignored
    Serenely he waded in the water – at will
    A leathern container, with water did fill
    Leisurely emerged in a triumphant way
    His mighty sword kept the foe at bay.
    Exult did not at the blessed gain,
    Zealously adhered to his purpose – main.
    ”Water must reach the camp inmates”
    (Elevated sense such resolve dictates)
    Enshrined in mind was ”a camp inmate”
    He knew, his return his niece did wait.
    Shunned he did even a glimpse of peace,
    Unless the water did reach his niece.
    His mettle the apostates could not match
    The container, from him couldn’t snatch.
    The fortunate ones who death escaped,
    Froze with terror, transfixed – gaped.
    Petrified, ventured not impede him,
    (Cocksure, their prospects were slim)
    As the abject terror played its role,
    The dragon of scare swallowed them – whole:”

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One Responseso far.

  1. Fatima skriver:

    Ser verkligen fram emot dina inlägg om detta ämne.

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