The Door Half-Opened Through Death

This poem is about old age and death.

What imaginations those coming to this world nourish!
Imaginations as sweet as the joy felt at religious festivals!
And yet the first step taken into the world is also the first step
those who have come to the world take toward the Last Abode.

At the same time as a bitter wind blows in the neighboring house,
the fragrance of spring is felt in the maternity hospital.
It is inevitable for one who has come to this world to travel on
to the eternal world, to the grief of those around him.

The mind falls into a void as wide and deep as skies,
Lightning strikes feelings deep in his heart,
and man finds himself dragged toward a place unknown.
He shivers with what he hears and is driven to frenzy.

As he advances in pains left from his life
far away from the shores where he once lived,
as he blindly limps through the pits in his soul,
he finds himself dragged into a dark inlet.

Finally that deep sleep comes to an end, and it is seen that life is but an illusion.

Finally that deep sleep comes to an end,
and it is seen that life is but an illusion.
Dreams end. Day begins to dawn in the real world,
on shivers as if the Last Trumpet’s been blown.

He moves on, looking first ahead and then back;
His old world destroyed, the new as yet unknown.
Death lifts up, one after the other, the veils
before the other world rising as silently as the full moon.

The spirit is surprised, man is startled in fear.
Throngs of men are dragged with no obstacles before them.
You think them like leaves scattered around,
Like leaves blowing in a strong, powerful wind.

They hasten forward with eyes fixed on a point,
where time is no more, no sounds of clocks heard.
There is no returning back, even if they want to.
A different ground, different skies, and signs of the final truth.

As for the believing souls, worship of God is a mount for them,
by which they fly to the clime where angels fly.
With hearts at rest, with spirits having reached their aspirations,
they hear God’s compliments distinctly, word by word.

The faces of the believers are bright with flashes of joy.
They overflow with emotions while walking illumined roads.
The merriment of union is heard from a few steps ahead.
Voices rise in the company of the melodies of houris.

Flowers shimmer all around like narcissi,
and hearts beat with a different sound.
Eyes shining brightly pour forth smiles.
If it were possible, a heart would stop for happiness.

Souls go to their ease in the highest realm of Paradise,
where colors, patterns and harmonies charm the eyes.
Sometimes beauties excelling those of Paradise are sensed,
and angels visit festival on their mounts.

By M. Fethullah Gulen

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