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#islamic poetry
quranjournals · 21 days
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suhyla · 22 days
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Tell me oh Yusuf, what did you feel
When that old dream of yours was finally real
You’ve gone through so much, all on your own
The son of Prophets, cut off from home
You loved your brothers and were still betrayed
Sold as a slave without an escape
But it was not all for naught, Allah had a plan
With patience and wisdom, you became a man
You tamed your desires when it was not easy to do
Yet they threw you in prison and left you accused
You spent years with royalty and then years alone
Then came a dream by the king of the throne
Allah gave you a gift, a purpose to fulfill
Decreed long before you were thrown in the well
You made sense of things that no one else could
You heard the King’s dream and you understood
Famine would come, Egypt would have to prepare
Every little detail was in Allah’s care
You rescued Egypt, the King offered his thanks
Soon after, you received both freedom and rank
You observed patience and after all these years
Wrongs were made right and your name was clear
You became a minister, the story was not over yet
In came the brothers who deemed you a threat
For the drought did not impact Egypt alone
Need for grains brought your brothers from home
You knew them at once, for how could you forget?
But they knew you not and had no regret
Coming together, all according to plan
The climax of the story finally began
The moment arrived, the truth was made clear
Yusuf was not dead, Yusuf was here
They had to admit their wrongs at last
Unearthing all that they thought had passed
How beautiful were you, and how pure a heart
To forgive for the sake of a brand new start
Welcoming them to Egypt with safety and peace
Reunited with Yaqoub, whose prayers did not cease
You once had a dream, before all the scars
You dreamed of the sun and moon and stars
Prostrating to you, and now it was real
So tell me oh Yusuf, how did it feel?
To know the promise of Allah was true
Friend of my heart, I draw strength from you
— instagram
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qahwahthoughts · 2 months
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‎tawakkul 🤍 تَوَكُّل
‎“what is meant for you will reach you, even if it is between two mountains.” There’s no need to rush nor feel anxious for the future because what’s yours will be yours. So tie your camel and have تَوَكُّل, for الله knows the best & He is the best planner.
- qahwahthoughts on twitter
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aslisjournal · 9 months
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Tawwakul, a children's poetry book, Asli Hersi
it's a great reminder for us brothers and sisters to not despair, Allah's help will arrive soon. Check out the free pdf here, but if you can please purchase, as all proceeds go to my local masjid's youth program.
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pyaariposting · 8 months
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kitna kuch hone ke baad, kitna kuch sehne ke baad, kitna kuch khone ke baad, maslihat, mayoosi, tanhai, yakeen, sabr, ehtaram, dua aur intezaar ke baad sajda karna seekhaya jaata hai. mai uss sajde ki kaifiyat alfaaz mein kabhi bayaan nahin kr paayi jab insaan aakhirkar Allah ke roobaru khada hota hai, wo sajda itna takleef-deh hota hai ke dil chah rha hota hai ke abhi ye sar sajde mein gire aur rooh parwaz kar jaaye. Aur uss waqt ka manzar alfaaz mein kaise bayaan ho skta hai jo Allah se mulakaat ki jaati hai, nadaamat se bhari aankhein aur shrm se bhara dil uske saamne khol kr rkh diya jaata hai, aankhon se rava aansu aur sabr ki kaifiyat sunayi jaati hai. Jab na daaye janib koi shakhs hota hai na baaye janib. chaaron taraf Allah ki aagosh mehsoos hoti hai jaise usse zor se gale se laga rkha ho. Jab alfaaz ki lambi list bhi khtm ho jaati hai aur khamoshi se rooh laraz uthti hai, jab dua ke liye haath uthane ki bhi himmat nahin rehti. Bas uss aakhiri marhale pe pohonch kr rabb mil jaata hai. Tab dil kehta hai ya Allah mein bade hadson se guzar kr aaya hu yahan. Maine sabr mein kami nahi ki, to ab mujhe bhi sile mein kami nahin chahiye! Ab mujhe bhi siley mein Tu chahiye sirf Tu...bs phir wo mil jaata hai aur sab mukammal hojata hai.
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wrappedinamysteryy · 6 months
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A Poem based on the name of Allāh, Al-Musawwir, from my book Calming Echoes, a reminder of the one Who created you.
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razinverse · 11 months
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I returned to the prayer mat, the land where I celebrate the reunion of all the fragments of myself that I lost while walking upon the dunya. I returned to the prayer mat and every sad thing inside of me turned beautiful. Every pain turned into joy. Every breath felt like breathing in an entire constellation. Flowers started to grow on my flawed walls and the pain that came with the heartache suddenly bursted into fireworks in my sky of hopefulness. Tears rushed to put out the flame that was burning me from the inside out. I put my head down but it was my heart that fell down and got sunk into the deep earth. I touched my forehead on the ground but I felt touching the windowpanes of my heart from inside. The heaviness that sunk me in the dark oceans of the dunya suddenly vanished and I found myself floating above every places where I once drowned. Prayers, are the streetlights to the way home and they themselves feels like home too.
-Ig: lifeofmajnun
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al-fawaaid · 8 months
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حقيقة الدنيا
هرَبوا من الرقِّ الذي خُلِقوا له *** فبُلوا برقِّ النفسِ والشيطانِ
They fled from the slavery for which they were created for, so they were trialled and became slaves to their desires and Shayṭān.
 لا ترضَ ما اختاروه هم لنفوسِهم *** فقد ارتضَوا بالذلِّ والحرمانِ
Do not be pleased with what they have chosen for themselves, for they are content with humiliation and deprivation.
لو ساوَتِ الدنيا جناحَ بعوضةٍ *** لم يسقِ منها الربُّ ذا الكُفرانِ
If this world [to Allāh] was equal to a mosquito’s wing, then The Lord would not have given an infidel a drink of water from it,
ِلكنها واللهِ أحقرُ عنده *** من ذِي الجناحِ القاصرِ الطيران
but, by Allāh, it is more despicable to Him than the bird that is incapable of flying.
[النونية لابن القيم]
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creatediana · 3 months
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Ruba'i by the Sufi poet Mahsati (1098–1185), translated by Paul Smith
After nearly 900 years, Mahsati is highly respected for her courageous poetry that condemned religious fanaticism and prejudices, hypocrisy and dogmas. In the city of Ganjeh in Azerbaijan, a street and a school, an academic institution, a museum and others have been named after her.
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hussyknee · 9 months
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Every time I see Rumi's poems in English it breaks my heart because they're always from The Essential Rumi by Coleman Barks, a huckster who doesn't even know Persian and mistranslated and erased Islam from them. The West cannot touch anything without warping it beyond recognition and then hawking it all over the globe to line their own pockets.
I know the translations by AJ Arberry and William Chittock are considered a lot more faithful, but I really want to read one by a scholar from Iran or at least the Middle East. I'm so tired of having to talk to communicate with other Global South cultures through the West.
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quranjournals · 9 days
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irishabdullah · 6 days
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When my bier moveth on the day of death
به روز مرگ چو تابوت من روان باشد
Think not my heart is in this world.
گمان مبر که مرا درد این جهان باشد
Do not weep for me and cry “woe, woe!”
برای من مگری و مگو دریغ دریغ
Thou wilt fall in the devil’s snare: that is woe
به دوغ دیو درافتی دریغ آن باشد
When thou seest my hearse, cry not, “gone, gone!”
جنازه‌ام چو ببینی مگو فراق فراق
Union and meeting are mine in that hour
مرا وصال و ملاقات آن زمان باشد
If thou commit me to the grave, say not “Farewell, farewell”
مرا به گور سپاری مگو وداع وداع
For the grave is a curtain hiding the communion of paradise
که گور پرده جمعیت جنان باشد
After beholding descent, consider resurrection
فروشدن چو بدیدی برآمدن بنگر
Why should setting be injurious to the sun and moon?
غروب شمس و قمر را چرا زبان باشد
To thee it seems a setting, but ’tis a rising’
تو را غروب نماید ولی شروق بود
Tho’ the vault seems a prison, ’tis the release of a soul
لحد چو حبس نماید خلاص جان باشد
What seed went down into the earth but it grew?
کدام دانه فرورفت در زمین که نرست
Why this doubt of thine as regards the seed of man?
چرا به دانه انسانت این گمان باشد
What bucket was lowered but it came out brimful?
کدام دلو فرورفت و پر برون نامد
Why should the Joseph of the Spirit complain of the well?
ز چاه یوسف جان را چرا فغان باشد
Shut thy mouth on this side, and open it beyond
دهان چو بستی از این سوی آن طرف بگشا
For in placeless air will by thy triumphal song.
که های هوی تو در جو لامکان باشد
-Rumi (1207-1273), t. R. A. Nicholson, Selected Poems from the Divani Shamsi Tabriz
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roseywordss · 7 days
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her-scattered-pages · 2 years
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𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢, "𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦."
"𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴."
via her-scattered-pages
insta her.scattered.pages
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I tried and tried to run away from God, but in my escape I fell into Him. I stuck and delivered many a blow, but came back only with my own blood on my hands. Indeed, I implored, I have truly wronged myself by sinning. I have gone against my own nature. In the end the blow I sought to deal the divine landed on my own head, and dazed, spitting blood, I sought refuge in my target. The Merciful held space, then, even for me. Yea, even for me.
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wrappedinamysteryy · 7 months
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