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FARIG OLMAM

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FARIG OLMAM eylesen yüz bin cefâ sevdim seni
Böyle yazmış alnıma kilk-i kazâ sevdim seni
Ben bu sözden dönmezem devr eyledikçe nüh felek
Şâhid olsun aşkıma arz u semâ sevdim seni
Bend-i peyvend-i dilim ebrû-yı gaddârındadır
Rişte-i cem’iyyetim zülf-i siyeh-kârındadır
Hastayım ümmîd-i sıhhat çeşm-i bîmârîndadır
Bir devâsız derde oldum mübtelâ sevdim seni
Ey hilâl ebrû dilin meyli sanadır dogrusu
Sû-yı mihrâba nigâhım kec-edâdır dogrusu
Râ kaşından inhirâf etsem riyâdır dogrusu
Yâ savâb olmuş veya olmuş hatâ sevdim seni

Bî-gubârım hasret-i hattınla hâk olsam yine
Sohbetin ruh ü lebindedir helâk olsam yine
Tîg-i gamzenden kesilmem çâk çâk olsam yine
Hâsılı bî-hûde cevr itme bana sevdim seni

Gâlib-i dîvâneyim Ferhâd ü Mecnûn’a salâ
Yüz çevirmem olsa dünyâ bir yana ben bir yana
Şem’ine pervâneyem pervâ ne lâzımdır bana
Anlasın bîgâne bilsin âşinâ sevdim seni

 

 
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Poems

KANUNI SULTAN SULEIMAN – MUHIBBI

Murat Mert

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KANUNI(The Lawgiver) SULTAN SULEIMAN THE MAGNIFICENT 1494-1566

 

Halk içinde mu´teber bir nesne yok devlet gibi
Olmaya devlet cihânda bir nefes sihhat gibi.
There is no worthy thing like prosperity among the folk
There is no prosperity like a breath of health in the world



 

Ko bu ays u isreti çünkim fenâdur âkibet
Yâr-i baaki ister isen olmaya tâat gibi.
Leave this junket because its end is bad.
If you want an everlasting beloved, there is no other than worshipping.

 

Olsa kumlar sagisinca ömrüne hadd ü aded
Gelmeye bu sise-i çarh içre bir sâat gibi.
If you had days to live as many as sands
They wouldnt be even one hour in this bottle of heavens.

 

Saltanat didükleri ancak cihân gavgaasidur
Olmaya baht u saâdet âlem-i vahdet gibi.
The thing that they call sultanate is only fight for world.
There is no fortune and happiness like the universe of unity.



 

Ger huzûr itmek dilesen ey Muhibbî fârig ol
Var midur vahdet makaami gûse-i uzlet gibi.
If you want to be in peace Muhibbi, be away from everything.
Is there a place of unity like the place of loneliness?

 
 
 

Written By: Murat Mert

 
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SAKARYA POEM ENGLISH TRANSLATION

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Human it is, flows as it is water, curly
The one that flows one side is me, on other side Sakarya

Water goes down from climbs, always step by step
And my fate is to get thirsty on acclivities

Everything flows, water, history, star, human and idea
Channels are dual, from one flows divine light, from the other one dirt

Little, big, universe; beamed in the flow
Look to the cloud there!, climbing, contrary to the water that goes down

But Sakarya is different, is it climbing ha?
A lead burden is loaded on its foamily body

Cracking, straining every nevre to take the climb
Hey Sakarya, Who said that water cannot be riveted ?

If Allah wants, waters get wringed
And history of Turks gets settled on its body

Oh my Sakarya, is this burden( duty ) for you?
This cause is seen despicable, this cause is orphan, this cause is big

What a heavy test that you are dealing with, Sakarya!
How can a canary could carry 1001 headed eagle?

I thought that it was human, who is the carrier of sacred burden
Being a hamal (porter), with no rank in the end, with no goods

Only a bite, from the meal that cooked with poison
And apartness from mother, country and friend

Now be frantic with sorrow, it is time for it
Remember the old suns (days), that run to milkyway (that became history)

That, Yunus Emre was walking by your side
That, the army which drizzles shiny domes after itself

Where are your brothers, beneficent Nile, green Danube
When will the glorious raider that gone, turns back to the country

Does still Takbir voices crashes in the pulses of marbles
Does the mad wind find that sound : Allah is One!

All these are in you, these complex puzzles
Sakarya, nights poured tar on candles

Equal to guilty conscience, boil, boil Sakarya
You are poor on your own land, outcast in your own land

Human, 3-5 drop blood, river 3-5 drop water
We are facing with a life, that is ambushing for life

Came; the mortal lie, gone; the immortal truth
You! living deaths, who will bring you to life

Sakarya, honest children of clean Anatolia
Only we are left, wild mads of the path to Allah

You and me, we are made of dough that is prepared with tear
When one looks to our colours, we are from mud, and from blood

Fate kneaded us in the chela of scorpion
Dont bother, came like this, this world goes like this!

To me; bed is winding sheet, to you pool is coffin
You curl, I go, the guide is Last Prophet!

The path belongs to Him, everything is His, all the other lie
You creeped much with your face down, stand up, Sakarya!

 

Ustadh Necip Fazil KISAKUREK – Sakarya -English Translation-

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THERE ARE 52 DAYS LEFT

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Dursun Ali Erzincanlı 52 Gün Var English Translation
 

 


 
If Allah, the Rabb of the entire universe, sends a Prophet…

HE first announces this with the stars…

Three stars are born around the moon…

These three stars announce the good news to the whole universe…

The stars are going to be born one last time…

Like news after another news, the divine light following another light…

They will tell the good news about our last and beloved Prophet…

 

There are 52 days left…

 

Sadness and happiness are one within the other in the house of happiness (house of Rasulullah Aleyhis Salatu Was Salaam).

The mother of all mothers are waiting for a consolation.

She is waiting for her pearl with sorrowful eyes since she just lost her husband…

Maybe she hears that little heart’s beating…

Maybe she is crying because he is not going to have a father when he is born…

But Hadhrat Aamina is aware of the mercy she carries.

 

And preparations are being made beyond the stars…

There are birds…

They are going a long way…

The birds are far away from the world, but they are coming closer at a fast pace…

 

There are 52 days left!

 

A disaster in Mecca happens!

The governor of Yemen, Abraha is going to attack the Kaaba.

They took 200 camels from Abdul Muttalib.

The leader of Mecca wants his camels back.

The Owner of the Kaabah protects the Kaabah.

Abraha is angry, he says:

No one can protect it against me!

The old man of Quraysh says the last word:

I am not going to be stuck in between! Here you are! Here it is!

 

There are 52 days left.

 

The folk of Mecca climb up to the mountains.

Mecca is evacuated.

The Haram Sharif is fortified…

Abdul Muttalib is so upset…

The old man of Quraysh holds on to the Kaabah’s circle.

The One, protect the ones whose immunity have fallen…

Protect the Kaabah and the Kaabah’s people…

Then he also climbs a mountain…

The cover of the Kaaba is left there…

A multicolored cover made in Yemen…

The house of happiness is alone, the station of Ebrahim.

Hijri Ismail, Hajre aswad and the Kaaba are all alone.

And birds (Abaabeels), created to fly… .

Obvious from their feet,that they will never land.

The birds are getting closer to the world..

 

There are 52 days left.

 

Abraha’s army is at the valley of Muhassab…

A giant elephant leads them at the front…

And sixty thousand miserable people follow it…

They are taking action to destroy the Kaabah.

Before the elephant takes a step Tufayl, the advisor of Abraha comes closer and whispers something…

”You mammoth, go back to the place where you came from safe and sound.

Because you are in a place which is made untouchable by Allah.”

And Tufayl also goes back to the mountains.

And the elephant kneels down.

You can see a fight going on among the soldiers. They wonder why the elephant is not standing up.

It runs when it is directed to the opposite way, but it stops and kneels when it is directed to the Kaabah.

They put sharp irons in it’s nose to make it stand up and walk, but it never stands up.

Then a darkness shows up in the sky around Yemen…

It’s like a dark cloud…

A darkness approaching from the sea…

Eyes are opened wide with terror…

Faces show terror..

A voice says: ”Look if you can stand it!”

Because Ababeels are raining down!

They are the birds that were never seen in the world before!

The big ones, the small ones, all in different groups..

They follow each other like wild animals…

In their beaks and claws are stones made from dirt…

Their wings are snow white…

On their heads is a writing…

Al-QAHHAR (The One who prevails over all creation)

For torment, they were created.

Here the torment starts…

Abraha and his army…

and stones raining on them…

The stones which can take their fossil hearts out…

 

There are 52 days left;

 

The Kaabah is not left alone, The Kaabah is not without an Owner…

And the Kaabah screams:

Where is your army? You were too proud.

Is there a place you can escape? Where you can go?

ALLAH is the One Who will be following you!

Today, everyone in this army is going to have their share of this torment.

Abraha is defeated, ALLAH always wins.

We know that you will find yourselves in flames when it’s all done.

”ALLAH is the best planner.”

 

Ya Rabb, if a person like Abraha gathers his army and attempt attacking Your possessions…

we beg You, please don’t send Ababeels again.

Do not send Your birds of torment until there is no one with the love of Islam in his heart left in the world…

Today, Ababeels should watch us just like how the folk on mountains watched them in a state of fear…

And the earth should hear us…

We are the protectors of the Kaabah!

Because we are the Ummah of Muhammad (SAW)

 

The Kaabah is waiting for the Sultan of hearts while Ababeels are leaving Mecca.

The mother of all mothers is waiting for her rose.

There are 52 days left!

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