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aviisevil Oct 2016
Jo wahan hai wo yahan hai
Jo yahan hai wo wahan hai
Par-e-dil gumshuda
Na Jane kahan hai
Ek chota sa to ye jahan hai
Hum to isse bhi bant chale
Dil to ek chota sa makam hai

A us ***** ko bhi sath le chalein
Jispe uska kudha mehrban hai
Ye to ek aeine ki zaban hai
Jane teri ankhein kahan hai
apne ko hi kyu karta hai khafa
Tujse zada insan to asman hai
Koi lakeer zisko na bant sake
Usse bant diya tune jahan hai

ab to diwaron me hi tu fanaa hai
agar ek dusre ke liye hi marna hai
to pyar me marne me kya gunha hai ?

rok na sake koi usse
jisko khaboien ki panaa hai
Jo pyar me bana hai
lakeeron ke uss par bhi to ek sapna hai
udhar bhi to koi shayad apna hai

agar ek dusre ke liye hi marna hai
to pyar me marne me kya gunha hai ?


ye jo rasta tumne chuna hai
akele pad jaoge tum beete kal
ye jo hai tumhari addat
ki ab to ibadat bhi gunha hai
kya tumne kabhi dheere se suna hai
wo ek muskaan ki shararat
jiska arth bhi tumko mana hai
dekh le us fakeer ki nazakat
jo tere mere khoon ki milawat
us lakeer ki ahat pe kurban hai


agar ek dusre ke liye hi marna hai
to pyar me marne me kya gunha hai ?
aviisevil Jun 2015
wo din bhi kya the
jab neend hume sulati thi
sapno ki ek duniya
hume kahin dur le jati thi
wahin pe ab dafan hai
beete dino ki pehchan
mere har kal mai
aur meri har saans
beete dino ki wo duniya
guzre zamane ke wo pal
kahin gum hain wo garmiyan
ab to bus suna hai ye kal
gumshuda hain wo chehre
jinhone hume jeena sikhaya
rakh ** chale wo chehre
jinhe mitna ras aya
me bhi ek chehra ***
anginat ankhon me se ek
is samandar me mera bhi
wo haq hai
chahe lakhon me ek
par wo bolten hain
me to *** hi ek *****
ki ek tuta dil
fir nahi dhadakta hai
wo puchten nahi
in bhari mehfil
is tute dil me-
akhir kya rakha hai
Notes (optional)
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Strange Currents
by Amir Khusrow (1253-1325)
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

O Khusrow, the river of love
creates strange currents:
the one who would surface invariably drowns,
while the one who surrenders, survives.

There are a number of translations of this poem, and they all involve some degree of interpretation. I can't claim that my interpretation is "correct" and sometimes poets are intentionally ambiguous. I based my translation on this explanation by Madhu Singh: “Ubhra-Floats: He who floats actually sinks (is lost) & and he who drowns actually reaches the other side (gets salvation).” In other words, one must stop struggling and surrender to the river of love. And this makes more sense to me than some of the other translations do.

###

Becoming One
by Amir Khusrow (1253-1325)
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

I have become you, as you have become me;
I am your body, you my Essence.
Now no one can ever say
that you are someone else,
or that I am anything less than your Presence!

###

I Am a Pagan
by Amir Khusrow (1253-1325)
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

I am a pagan disciple of love: I need no creeds.
My every vein has become taut, like a tuned wire.
I do not need the Brahman's girdle.
Leave my bedside, ignorant physician!
The only cure for love is the sight of the patient's beloved:
there is no other medicine he needs!
If our boat lacks a pilot, let there be none:
we have god in our midst: we do not fear the sea!
The people say Khusrow worships idols:
True! True! But he does not need other people's approval;
he does not need the world's.

*****-e-ishqam musalmani mara darkaar neest
Har rag-e mun taar gashta hajat-e zunnaar neest;
Az sar-e baaleen-e mun bar khez ay naadaan tabeeb
Dard mand-e ishq ra daroo bajuz deedaar neest;
Nakhuda dar kashti-e maagar nabashad go mubaash
Makhuda daareem mara nakhuda darkaar neest;
Khalq mi goyad ki Khusrau but parasti mi kunad
Aarey aarey mi kunam ba khalq mara kaar neest.

###

Amir Khusrow’s elegy for his mother
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Wherever you shook the dust from your feet
is my relic of paradise!

###

Paradise
by Amir Khusrow (1253-1325)
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

If there is an earthly paradise,
It is here! It is here! It is here!

Amir Khusrow (or Khusro) was born in 1253 A.D. in Patiyala, India, His paternal ancestors belonged to the nomadic tribe of Hazaras. Khusrow called himself an Indian Turk (Turk-e-Hind). He was a Sufi mystic, musician, poet, composer and scholar who wrote in Persian (Farsi) and Hindavi (Hindi-Urdu). Khusrow has been called the “Voice of India” and the “Father of Urdu literature.” He introduced the ghazal to India and made significant contributions to its development. He also wrote in other musical and verse forms, including qawwali, masnavi, qata, rubai, do-baiti and tarkib-band.? Keywords/Tags: Amir Khusrow, Khusro, India, Urdu, Hindi, Farsi, Sufi, ghazal, love
Bintun Nahl 1453 Mar 2015
Islam adalah ajaran yang sangat sempurna, sampai-sampai cara berpakaian pun dibimbing oleh Alloh Dzat yang paling mengetahui apa yang terbaik bagi diri kita. Bisa jadi sesuatu yang kita sukai, baik itu berupa model pakaian atau perhiasan pada hakikatnya justru jelek menurut Alloh. Alloh berfirman, “Boleh jadi kamu membenci sesuatu padahal itu adalah baik bagimu dan boleh jadi kamu menyukai sesuatu padahal sebenarnya itu buruk bagimu, Alloh lah yang Maha mengetahui sedangkan kamu tidak mengetahui.” (Al Baqoroh: 216). Oleh karenanya marilah kita ikuti bimbingan-Nya dalam segala perkara termasuk mengenai cara berpakaian.

Perintah dari Atas Langit

Alloh Ta’ala memerintahkan kepada kaum muslimah untuk berjilbab sesuai syari’at. Alloh berfirman, “Wahai Nabi katakanlah kepada isteri-isterimu, anak-anak perempuanmu serta para wanita kaum beriman agar mereka mengulurkan jilbab-jilbab mereka ke seluruh tubuh mereka. Yang demikian itu agar mereka mudah dikenal dan tidak diganggu orang. Alloh Maha pengampun lagi Maha penyayang.” (Al Ahzab: 59)

Ketentuan Jilbab Menurut Syari’at

Berikut ini beberapa ketentuan jilbab syar’i ketika seorang muslimah berada di luar rumah atau berhadapan dengan laki-laki yang bukan mahrom (bukan ‘muhrim’, karena muhrim berarti orang yang berihrom) yang bersumber dari Al Qur’an dan As Sunnah yang shohihah dengan contoh penyimpangannya, semoga Alloh memudahkan kita untuk memahami kebenaran dan mengamalkannya serta memudahkan kita untuk meninggalkan busana yang melanggar ketentuan Robbul ‘alamiin.

Pertama

Pakaian muslimah itu harus menutup seluruh badannya kecuali wajah dan kedua telapak tangan (lihat Al Ahzab: 59 dan An Nuur: 31). Selain keduanya seperti leher dan lain-lain, maka tidak boleh ditampakkan walaupun cuma sebesar uang logam, apalagi malah buka-bukaan. Bahkan sebagian ulama mewajibkan untuk ditutupi seluruhnya tanpa kecuali-red.

Kedua

Bukan busana perhiasan yang justru menarik perhatian seperti yang banyak dihiasi dengan gambar bunga apalagi yang warna-warni, atau disertai gambar makhluk bernyawa, apalagi gambarnya lambang partai politik!!!; ini bahkan bisa menimbulkan perpecahan diantara sesama muslimin. Sadarlah wahai kaum muslimin…

Ketiga

Harus longgar, tidak ketat, tidak tipis dan tidak sempit yang mengakibatkan lekuk-lekuk tubuhnya tampak atau transparan. Cermatilah, dari sini kita bisa menilai apakah jilbab gaul yang tipis dan ketat yang banyak dikenakan para mahasiswi maupun ibu-ibu di sekitar kita dan bahkan para artis itu sesuai syari’at atau tidak.

Keempat

Tidak diberi wangi-wangian atau parfum karena dapat memancing syahwat lelaki yang mencium keharumannya. Nabi shollallohu ‘alaihi wa sallam bersabda, “Jika salah seorang wanita diantara kalian hendak ke masjid, maka janganlah sekali-kali dia memakai wewangian.” (HR. Muslim). Kalau pergi ke masjid saja dilarang memakai wewangian lalu bagaimana lagi para wanita yang pergi ke kampus-kampus, ke pasar-pasar bahkan berdesak-desakkan dalam bis kota dengan parfum yang menusuk hidung?! Wallohul musta’an.

Kelima

Tidak menyerupai pakaian laki-laki seperti memakai celana panjang, kaos oblong dan semacamnya. Rosululloh melaknat laki-laki yang menyerupai perempuan dan perempuan yang menyerupai laki-laki (HR. Bukhori)

Keenam

Tidak menyerupai pakaian orang-orang *****. Nabi senantiasa memerintahkan kita untuk menyelisihi mereka diantaranya dalam masalah pakaian yang menjadi ciri mereka.

Ketujuh

Bukan untuk mencari popularitas. Untuk apa kalian mencari popularitas wahai saudariku? Apakah kalian ingin terjerumus ke dalam neraka hanya demi popularitas semu. Lihatlah isteri Nabi yang cantik Ibunda ‘Aisyah rodhiyallohu ‘anha yang dengan patuh menutup dirinya dengan jilbab syar’i, bukankah kecerdasannya amat masyhur di kalangan ummat ini? Wallohul muwaffiq.

(Disarikan oleh Abu Mushlih dari Jilbab Wanita Muslimah karya Syaikh Al Albani)
Diska Kurniawan Apr 2016
Pukul satu, kakiku melangkah ke sudut warung kecil itu
Sunyi, lalu ku pilih tempat duduk di ujung sana
Setelah memesan kopi, pilot ku menggores kertas
Yang sama putihnya dengan kulitmu
Tak lupa kubakar ujung rokokku
Yang namanya sehangat pelukanmu
Lalu kuhembuskan kepulan asap tembakau
Menguar sama harumnya dengan tubuhmu
Sepekat nikotin di pembuluhku

Ku tulis kisah kita, dari awal mula hingga akhir bersua
Yang terdampar di sudut kenangan dan rindu,
dan kupaksakan masuk ke dalam loker kerjaku
Sehingga lupa ku adalah tabu, dan memoir adalah *****
Dirimu ku lukis dalam surat ini;


"Di hingar bingar kota, dimanakah kau berada?
Jika lelahmu beradu, dimakah kau berteduh?
Aku disini kasih, Surabaya tempatmu lari
Menolehlah jika kau ada di sudut persimpangan
Mungkin, aku disitu mencari dan mencari
Sisa-sisa cintamu jika itu memang terjatuh
Menadah air matamu, jika itu memang tercecer.
Temui aku, jika berkenan menjumpa nostalgia"


Kuhembuskan uap-uap tar yang menguning
Menerawang di bohlam remang-remang.
Ketika kabut itu pergi, begitu pula aku
Saat api ini padam, redup juga jiwaku

Pukul tiga aku beranjak,
Bayar dan pergi
Surat itu kutinggalkan di atas meja.
Credit to Burhan-san for title
MdAsadullah Feb 2017
In baato'n mein na ulajh, khuda kaha'n hai aur kaha'n nahi'n.
***** ke dil mei'n ya masjid mei'n pi.
Per yaad rakh koi to likh raha hai tere amaal.
Sharabi! tu bekhabar hai khuda bekhabar nahi'n.
Ghalib Faraz sharabi , sharab , masjid , zahid , khuda
Diska Kurniawan May 2016
Dengarkan ketika kau merasa takut,
akan semua ketulian,
Gosip dan kata-kata tak bermakna,    
Semua berita peperangan
Maupun musik tanpa nada.
Telingamu seharusnya takut.

Lihatlah ketika kau merasa takut,
akan semua kebutaan,
Kebajikan yang munafik,
Imajinasi yang berlebihan
Terlebih jika kau tampik
Matamu selayaknya takut.

Ucapkan ketika kau merasa takut,
akan semua puisi dan syair,
Mantra yang mereka panjatkan,    
pada setan dimana mereka lahir
Semua bisu yang kau nyanyikan
Bibirmu seharusnya takut.

Cintai ketika kau merasa takut    
akan semua iba dan nestapa,
Mabuk dengan segelas kasih,
Mereka yang bertelanjang jiwa
Sehingga matipun tertatih
Hatimu selayaknya takut

Pikirlah ketika kau merasa takut
akan semua yang dungu,
dimana nuklir-nuklir itu mereka sesap,
dan kebijaksanaan para ***** dituju
Ketika para pendeta tergagap.
Otakmu seharusnya takut

Rasalah ketika kau merasa takut
akan semuanya yang berbentuk,
menyerupakan tawa dengan doa,
Yang menyayat hiruk pikuk
Derap dan tangis yang fana
Dirimu selayaknya takut
                                                                          
Maka biarkan aku berani
Karena kau hidup, dan aku tak punya diri.
Hiatus until the end of my fatigue.
J Penpla Mar 2017
Hey,
you okay Syria?
Heard you were unwell,
according to Wikipedia.
Set out searching
for something uplifting.
Started cruising the news,
then started drifting.
You were looking pretty fit,
On your wiki-profile,
10 millennia of Mediterranean:
temperate and fertile.
Boasting a motely religious crew:
Sunnis, Shiites,
Christians, Druze and Jews
So ethnically diverse,
with your Arabs, Kurds and Turks.

And as complex historically,
in terms of genealogy.
Just take a look at your etymology:
“the Levant”, meaning:
‘where the sun rises’
And like the sun’s rising,
there is no denying
your history of reprising
war of blood and fire.
Lest we begin at the beginning:
the Ottoman Empire,
which was succeeded by Babylonia,
then conquered by the Persians.
From Macedonia,
through countless imperialist conversions.
And the mosh-pit persisted
Full of havoc and haters,
Jews, Muslims, and Christian crusaders.
Through multiple millennia
to the twenty-first century,
you hardly gained independence
As a republic, parliamentary
Then on loop, military coup after coup…
Still looking more cliquey
Than an American penitentiary.

Not that conditions
Were too civil before
but from the Arab Springs,
sprung yet another civil war.
Claiming nearly half a million casualties
And ten times that in refugees.
Syria, are you begging, are you bawling,
are you crawling on your knees?

Mesopotamia, the market’s hot.
Leading natural resource: petroleum.
Coincidence? Of course…not
So Syria who’s in charge?
Who’s assigned to officiate?
Let’s get this straight:
You’ve got your head of State-
That is mister president.
And mister prime-minister,
well he’s official head of government.
May I ask where is Mrssssss….
No, no. Not much room for her in parliament.

Pardon me, my political perspective
might be a bit bourgeois
but might there be connection
between your strife and sharia law?
Again, pardon my impudence
but Allah’s jurisprudence
hardly seems prudent.
So, Muhammad, the prophet
left behind a prophecy,
spelled out in religious text
on which you base your polity
From which are governed
all matters of legality,
like, for instance say: the death penalty,
which seems to be the official decree
on any member of  the L, G, B or the T.
A strict hetero-only-policy.
Nothing is guaranteed in life though,
except for death and tax.
Thankfully, on these matters
Muhammad was a little more lax.
The *****, the infidel,
the unbeliever, the abomination
has a bit of say regarding
Death or taxation.
For those who do not believe
reprieve is a matter of yes or no:
Yes – conversion and enslavement
Otherwise, refusal means death row?
And even less leniency is granted,
to the lady adulterer
caught in twisted **** laws
punishment must not evade her
Wait, nope: Allah’s sharia clause –
lest he, the victim, opts to marry her.
And should she deviate
Muhammad left a legal loop-hole
For the gentleman may repudiate
any respective young mate
Should she have already
begun to… *******?

(C’mon, really? I mean
I genuinely don’t get it)

I confess though, I’m a bit ethnocentric
It’s just that to me,
sharia methods seem too eccentric,
nay, morally questionable.
Kafirs, gays, women,
basically anyone vulnerable,
well their disenfranchisement,
seems culturally commendable  
if legally permissible.

It may not be my place, so again
I apologize for the tangent.
Does this Muhammad though,
not seems unfit for management?
To govern your soil
as drenched in blood as it is in oil,
land, so godly-blessed,
Syria, why is it that your name is so
synonymous with civil unrest?

Back to where I started, though
Syria, tell me: how are you?
But answer only if that query
is not too risky to respond to.
With arbitrary censorship,
detention and torture so widespread,
journalists must be etching cell walls
with “blog when you’re dead”
while offshore expeditions
on the Mediterranean Sea-floor
in the six years since
you declared civil war
leave you reliant on foreign credit
more than ever before.

So, how are you, Syria?
Just curious to hear from ya.
My name is Rajabu Al Islam, an African Muslim
Born in Africa, Black Muslim not Arabic,
I am now in the solemn city of Mombasa,
Standing on the pinnacle of Tahir Sheikh Towers,
Looking at the land of Likoni and Motonkwe
Beyond the deep blue arm of Indian Ocean,
Behold the Muslim terrorists, lynch fierce terror
On the innocent human beings, in ramshackled church,
They are shooting women and young children,
The pastor at the dais, wielding the Bible,
Also succumbs to a bullet in his ***** capacity,
The church choir master has also dropped dead
And the rest of all humanity in the church
Have no where to take cover from terrorist,
As Moslem terrorist ******* bullets on them,
Poor humanity wail in the agony of death
From the injurious bullets, of AK 47,
Auma Otieno drops dead her son Osinya falling away,
Osinya is not dead, but a slug stuck in his skull,
In glorification of Al shabab the Islamic terror wing,
Baby osinya is young boy of six months,
Without selfish   piety of Middle East in chest,
When you shoot him, is it n’t it super terrorism!
To shoot a child of six months in the head
In pursuit of your religious ecstasy?

Who said that Islam is the way of Godliness?
He was a beautiful cheat full of brawnish frivolities,
Islam is total darkness, as its overt organs are ;
Al gaeda, Al shabab and Boko Haram.
I hate Islam for its ***** reasonless ignorance
I hate it with my full passion and my entirety,
Indeed I am prepared to die in stern defense
Of my antipathy for Islam; a piety so uncouth
When I recall, the Twin towers of America,
West Gate of Kenya, American embassy in Kenya,
And the stubborn Boko Haram, that condemned human life
Foolishly in the north of Nigeria to be foul divinity.
It is dedicated to people who were killed by Moslem terrorist on 24th march 2014 in Mombasa Kenya
Don Bouchard Apr 2015
In Gethsemane Jesus was sweating blood
(John Kerry sipped a Perrier)
Pilot, washing up, could work no good
(The Ayatollah practiced his *****)
And Jesus, beaten, headed to the Cross...
(The peace they plan isn't what we want to hear)
Established peace for Man in Heaven
(The Devil take this lower sphere.)
The Good thing is, He's risen!

He is Risen!
Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, do I give unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, nor let it be afraid. (John 14:27)
Sachin jeengar Dec 2017
Sawalo se ghiri h Ye duniya
Tum bhi aao jara shaan se betho
Panap rahi h jindgi har zarre
Panap rahi h jindgi har zarre
Jara tum bhi Ye atrangi awam to dekho
Sawalo se...
Muqaddar bhi muss a ssal bhut h jazeere Mai
Tum bhi ***** ** ek jaam to lelo
Sawalo se ghiri h Ye duniya
Tum bhi aao jara shaan se betho....
Ik kahani h jindgaani
Ik kahani h jindgani
Jise sunati har jindgi h
Arre in kisso ka yaaro jara ek paigam to lelo
Sawalo se...
Aditi May 2016
He was like a maze
My love was like the sky,
He thought no one could find him,
I looked down at him and smiled.

He prayed every night,
As a *****, I studied him quietly,
The closest view of heaven I'll ever see
Is his face.

He was like an underground city,
I was the ferocious hurricane,
I felt his heart beat within me,
And turned into a quiet breeze
To listen.

He preached of love,
And talked about happy endings,
A foreign language he spoke,
I was mesmerized, nonetheless

He was like a dandelion dancing,
He bloomed cause he knew nothing else,
I was the roots to support his flight,
Wishing he realised I do it, only for his sake.

In another life,
He used to love me,
But he remembers not about those days,
Sometimes I feel I faded with his memories.
Ain Sep 2020
Tere kufr ne ***** mujhe Aabid bana diya...
Dho dho ke zanb ashkon ne - saafi bana diya..

Guzre hue lamhon ka kya karun main tazkara....
Tere khayaal ke har pal ne faakir bana diya...

Tere kalaam e sang ne itna kiya maa’il...
Guftaar ke us qehr ne saaquib bana diya...

Saada dili ke jurm ne di itni ranjishein...
Dil e masoom ko dehr ne waqif bana diya...

Ab wasl ke khwaab bunte baithi ** jo “Ain”...
Dekho ke hijr ne tumhe khwabid bana diya...
Yenson Feb 2020
T'is the age of the Sheikhs of Bugsdud
resplendent on magic carpet of delusions
how in understated shabby chick these dodgers
hide their short daggers and shun the soaps
once a week is quite enough thanks thee very much
these brave warriors in hooded flairs down in Oz
nurse great resentment like you wouldn't know

Inherent in genes unknown hang shortcomings
by twenty and three the automatic stiffener is gone
in floppy dangling grace they find no led or vroom
thus ensures the quest for the magic blue bullets
while they run and hide from the last dance of day
those that manage the lift give it all up after two minutes
proclaiming better quick than never at all don't you say

There amongst are fetching hues of wood in splendor
hard teaks upping measure for measure longingly ripe
show fielded flowers and see furrows lovingly ploughed
and cries of joy rings out from rafters as every nooks imbue
and crimson flushes tell tales of time well spent in woods
leaving them tall sheikhs fuming and cursing all bothered
reveling in spiteful envy engrossed in dreadful hatred its war

Now add to tinder a renowned Prince of repute à la carte
a charger in wit and wisdom charming beyond compare
a Regent in gold with a sparkling sword like no other around
here comes a recipe for disaster a living nightmare in sheikdom
this esteemed arab dares prances around on the mount of olives
call out the sheikhs with the short daggers open Pandora's box
stop this ***** at all cost, summon all from the Red seafarers

This is no tale for Rome do not quote me rhyme or reason
for its been said that here Prince turned down ivory vessels
dared to answer back our charlatan Tax Collectors an knaves
worst of all he carries a sword unsurpassed and proves capable
charges are greed for owning such a sword incomparable to ours
and greed for not sharing even a touch or a look to those ivories
his fate is henceforth sealed, that sword shall not be polished again

to be continued....

— The End —