Lament by Shibli on the Collapse of the Islamic States
When the nations of Europe ignited the flames of the Balkan War in 1912, the entire Indian subcontinent was shaken. Eyes wept blood, the scholars mourned and lamented, and the elders wailed and sobbed. At this, the great scholar Allama Shibli Nu‘mani (d. 1914) composed a powerful poem in Urdu that stirred the hearts of Muslims to grief and protest. Allama Sayyid Sulaiman Nadwi writes: “It is as if this poem was divinely inspired. Some of its predictions came true. Shibli recited it at a public gathering in Lucknow held to collect donations for Turkey. He wept, and caused others to weep, until the whole town of Lucknow seemed transformed into a house of mourning and condolence” (Hayat Shibli, p. 594).
This poem still holds the same emotional impact to this day. I have translated it into Arabic, hoping it may stir the hearts of Arabic speakers as it did among the Indians:
> When the state of the Muslims collapses and crumbles,
How long can their name or trace remain?
For how long will smoke rise from the extinguished lamps of their assemblies?
When destiny shreds the robe of Islamic rule to pieces,
For how long will its torn fragments fly in the sky?
> The distant Maghrib has slipped from our hands, and Persia is lost—
So let us see: how long can the proud, defiant, sickly Turk hold out?
> This violent, turbulent, evil-laden flood arises from the land of the Balkans—
Will the cries of the oppressed stop it? Will the wails of the weak halt it?
> These tyrants gaze from their balconies at the scenes of slaughter and annihilation—
How long will the dying martyrs show them such “delights”?
> The moans of the weak in agony bring them joy,
How often do orphans and widows sound in their ears the tones of humiliation and pain?
> Let the world ask: O champions of human civilisation! O masters of global modernity!
How long will these atrocities last? How long will these horrific massacres and shameful displacements continue?
> And you who stoke tyranny with violence—
How long will you relish tears and blood?
> Granted, you love to test the sharpness of your swords—
But how long will you trial their blades on our chests and necks?
> If you have not yet seen gardens of blood and fields of torn limbs—
Then how long must we turn our lands into exhibitions of flesh and bone?
> We know that you adore that which enhances the splendour of your gatherings, adds joy to your assemblies—
So how often must we show you our burning lamentations and our bereaved women’s cries?
> You find entertainment in tales of sorrow and narratives of grief—
So how long must we narrate the incidents of our scorched hearts and torn souls?
> You complain of drought from the sky and barrenness of earth—
Yet how often have we watered your fields and crops with our streaming blood?
> You desire henna and adornment for the brides of your fortune and joy—
So how long must our shields remain crimson to ease your rage?
> How long will you seek revenge on us for Salah al-Din al-Ayyubi’s conquests?
How often will you replay the brutal scenes of the Crusades upon us?
> You think of us as remnants of some bygone dust—
So how long will you try to erase our traces from the scrolls of time?
> O dear ones! The fall of the Ottomans is the fall of the Shari‘ah and religion—
For how long will you live in dread for your families, your children, and your homes?
> Tell me, by Allah, do you not understand these mobilisations, this stockpiling of weapons?
If not today, then when will the secret be revealed to you, the puzzle unravelled?
> If the worshippers of the Sacred House are annihilated—
Then how long will the angels continue to honour your mosques?
> If the sound of church bells rises across the earth—
How much longer will the call of tawḥīd and the adhan be heard in your cities and villages?
> The leaves of Islam are scattering, its ties unravelling—
How many more tempests of disbelief will rise?
> I fear even the curtains of the Ka‘bah and the Sacred Sanctuary will not be spared—
How long will the bold assaults of the blinding darkness of kufr persist?
> The hunters’ sights are now set on the Sacred Precinct—
How long can the birds’ nests survive in Ḥijr and Ḥaṭīm?
> If we were to migrate, O Shibli, where would we go? Where is the refuge, the escape?
How long will safety and peace remain in Shām, Najd, and Qayrawān?
Translated by AI. Original article: https://t.me/DrAkramNadwi/6037
