I am a lost abd…..

How I feel these days subhn’Allah, My mind is numb and my spirit is totally shattered Allah Musta’an…..please make du’aa for me insh’Allah

أنا العبد – Ana al-’abd – I am the Servant
أنا العبد الذي كسب الذنوبا وصدته المعاصي أن يتوبا
أنا العبد الذي أضحى حزيناً على زلاته قلقاً كئيبا

Ana al-’abd ulladhee kasaba adhdhunooba, wa saddatahu ul amaanee an yatooba
Ana al-’abd ulladhee adh-haa hazeena, ‘alaa zallaatihi qaliqaan ka’eeba

I am the Servant who acquired sins, and was prevented from repenting by his false desires
I am the servant who became sad, over his slip ups, worried and sad

أنا العبد الذي سطرت عليه صحائف لم يخف فيها الرقيبا
أنا العبد المسيء عصيت سراً فمالي الآن لا أبدي النحيبا

Ana al-’abd ulladhee sutirat ‘alayhi sahaa’ifu lam yakhaf feeha ar raqeebaa
Ana al-’abdu ul masee’u ‘asaytu sirran, famaa li-laana laa ubdin in naheeyba

I am the servant upon whom pages were written, the one he didn’t fear Ar-Raqeeb (All Watchful)
I am the abusive slave, I disobeyed in secrecy, and did not reveal my lament until now

أنا العبد المفرط ضاع عمري فلم أرع الشبيبة والمشيبا
أنا العبد الغريق بلج بحرٍ أصيح لربما ألقى مجيبا

Ana al-’abdu mufarritu dhaa’a ‘umree, falam ar’a ashabeebata wa al masheeba
Ana al’-abd ullghareequ biljujji bahrin, Aseehu lirubbamaa alqaa mujeeba

I am the extravagant servant, I wasted my life, I cared not for youth nor old age
I am the servant who drowned in the raging sea, screaming to find an answerer

أنا العبد السقيم من الخطايا وقد أقبلت ألتمس الطبيبا
أنا العبد الشريد ظلمت نفسي وقد وافيت بابكم منيبا

Ana al-’abdu saqeemu min al khataaya, wa qad aqbaltu altamis ut tabeeyba
Ana al-’abdu shareedu dhalamtu nafsee, wa qad waafaytu baabakumu muneeba

I am the Servant who is afflicted by sins, and I have come beseeching the healer
I am the wandering, homeless servant, I wronged msyelf, and I have come to your door, repenting.

May Allaah strike our hearts with fear and consciousness, and forgive us all aameen.

 

Secrets of despair…

Kinda contemplating now after that diamonds course Subhan’Allah, The Shaykh of Love, Imam Ibn Hazm has interesting poems on love & tragedy….

All they that know me, know in truth
I am a poor and lovelorn youth,
Cast down and weary, full of care
For whom? Ah, none can this declare.

When they behold me face to face,
They feel quite certain of my case,
Which when they would more clearly state
They can no more than speculate.

My love is like a written screed;
The characters seem plain, indeed,
But when the reader seeks to know
What they portend, that does not show.

Or like the cooing of a dove
Within the thicket is my love
He modulates with perfect art
The sweet outpourings of his heart.

We listen spellbound and intent
To his delightful argument;
But though the melody is clear,
Its meaning quite escapes the ear.

“For Allah’s sake”, they plead with me,
” Name thou her name to us, that we
May we apprised what passion deep,
For whom, has robbed thee of thy sleep.”

No, no; before I tamely yield
The secret they would have revealed
I’d sooner see my reason go,
And plunge into the depths of woe.

So they are buffeted about
By wild conjecture, wilder doubt,
Not knowing whether what they know,
Or what they think they think is so.

The tears of passion flow
And flow again;
The veil, of love, I know,
Is rent in twain.

My heart, as she floats past (possibly forever),
Is fluttering yet
Like a poor partridge, fast
Trapped in the net.

O my companions true,
Come, counsel me
So all good comrades do
Advice is free.

How long, how long must I
This secret hide
Which I cannot deny,
Nor lay aside?