Tribute Poem to late Pa Nderry Mbai by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe

In a rare show of collective grief, celebrated and emerging journalists within and outside The Gambia show a synergy of voices, mourning the demise of Pa Nderry Mbai, a foremost Gambian investigative journalist who died on Monday in the USA. As an author who has a very close relationship with Pa Nderry Mbai, I wrote a tribute poem for him last night upon receipt of the sad news of his demise. 

Short Biography of Pa Nderry Mbai

Pa Nderry MBai was a journalist based in Raleigh, United States of America. Mr. M'Bai was the Proprietor and Managing Editor of the Freedom Newspaper (www,freedomnewspaper.com). The Freedom Newspaper is Gambia's leading news site. It covers up-to-date, reliable, and balanced breaking news stories about the Gambia, and the African Continent. Mr. MBai was also the proprietor of Freedom Radio Gambia, Gambia's leading online radio. 

 

Pa was the former Voice Of America Radio (VOA) Correspondent in Banjul, The Gambia. He has over twenty years of journalistic experience. He bagged a degree in Mass Communication. He was also the author of The Gambia: The Untold Dictator Yahya Jammeh's Story. 

A Tribute Poem To Pa Nderry Mbai written by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe

I can't believe Pa you're gone

As I write your name, every verb turned to was

Over this the snow of death chill

Once was fun, now done the thrill

My bones are crying with tears of cracks & creek

Tired of the sun and its hide & seek.

Pa Nderry Mbai,

'Hol la di yalla fey'

May your abode be 'Firdaus' in Jannah

For being miraculously

A national asset.

You were the YES to all NOs

The shelter to runaway Gambians

The newspaper to the voiceless

The truth and reparation commission

The commissioner of reconciliation

The image of investigative journalism

And the true defender of nationalism.

When I heard you died,

It sounds so divine;

It runs within my nervous system;

It blocks my auditory system on hearing it to prevent other incoming words;

It energizes me purposefully;

It's the religion I want to belong to;

My heart fastens to my soul.

I feel ecstatic,

I got so much static,

Or maybe, it's all this plastic fear of no more Freedom Newspaper

That's making me feel elastic.

I'll tell you a story

Of my Pa Nderry in all his glory,

Maybe some parts will be glory,

But for that, I am not sorry.

Pa was a freedom fighter

He was the news, the broadcast,

The paper,

And the eye of Gambians in the Diaspora.

When I look at you

I see a fortress of dignity

I see the impeccability of God

I see the idyllically made saint

I see a congenial soul of journalism

I see the effect of beautification

I see the light you've put in humanity

I see the reason The Gambia is not Gambia

I feel a little bit not Gambian

You should not be buried in Zambia

When I look at your photographs,

I can't take my eyes off your religious face

I can't resist your godly smiles

I can't seize to admire your bright teeth

I can't get enough of your aroma

I can't control my stammer.

When I look at you, Oh Pa Nderry!

I can't blink, for you're professionally eyeful

I can't speak, for no words can describe you

I can't feel my nerves, for your deeds are infectious

I can't hear anything else, for it's your voice I want to hear on Freedom Radio

It is your news I want to read on Freedom Newspaper,

And it is your presence I want to feel online.

Sobriety keeps me drunk

The illusion of life

Holds me abound

Life is a carcass of dreams

A theatre of illusion

Beneath the streets of my scream

Death as a reality lives in a world of dreams

Take a break from eternity

Forget about dexterity

Run wild within these fields

Let caution set itself loose

A stream of agony follows

Screams come in loud hollows

The ground slips beneath my feet

My wings dare to break

As my back bends in wake

But to roam I must

On this dammed Earth's crust

Felling my toes itch

Falling to a ditch

Savior above reach

But to forgive

Heaven's delight

Self, not to heal;

Beloved Pa Nderry:

Heart, pure as snow

Your tainted soul

Dwells in a heart of gold

May Allah forgive you, I pray

I swear to God

I only wish you feel what I felt

If only you had,

You will knee where I knelt.

Loving you is melting me,

Daily I melt;

I only mean to do what I meant.

But if prophets can die, tell me,

Why not you, Pa?

'Kulli-Nafsin-Zallikatul-Mawt'

'Kaalu-Inna-Lillahi-Waa-Inna-Illaihi-Raojo-on'

My special wishes to you! To schedule or book me for public lectures/ book launches/ conferences/ readings/ scriptwriting/ keynote/motivational speaking events, please email:

 modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com 

 © All Rights Reserved! Thank you for reading and following my blog. Should you wish to use any of my articles for research, lectures, personal use, etc.,.. kindly address your message to: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com. 

Copying any of my articles without written permission is an infringement of Copyright.

Book Review for Don't Judge The Book By The Cover by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe

As part of events marking the official book launch ceremony and the unveiling of the award of excellence won by the author Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe, scheduled on 7 January 2022 at Ebunban Theatre, Kanifing, The Gambia -- the author is giving away 50 FREE TICKETS to the first 50 PEOPLE to write a BOOK REVIEW for Don't Judge The Book By The Cover.  

   About The Book

Don't Judge The Book By The Cover, as the name implies, tells the story of 9-year-old Fatou Sowe -- who turned out to be a good speller overnight, as early as the age of nine. Most people know that the word BOY is spelled as B-O-Y -- but not Fatou. 

Fatou, who has always been good to neighbors and guests alike, wakes up one day to discover she has turned into a good speller with the help of a magic pen. This beautifully illustrated storybook has been created to support learners who after acquiring the basics of reading and writing, have struggled to organically grasp the rules that govern spelling in the English language. 

To everyone’s surprise, she can now spell the most difficult words in the world -- and a few minutes, too! But will her extraordinary talent last? 

The short story centers on the theme (of childhood and education in African societies, African traditions, poverty, and the shared values of love, forgiveness, and unity.)

 To WIN a FREE TICKET to the event, you must complete all these four (4) steps:

1. Follow the author on:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mlsowe2021

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@agealmusaf?

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/modoulaminsowe1/?hl=en

2. Download and Read Chapter One of the Book on this link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1WiA8_rvb3c2rOWXRP24ykuocWbarGQ9OQvnuXhrvjp8/edit?usp=sharing

3. Write a short REVIEW for the book by answering these questions:

a. What can be learned from the book?

b. How does the book depict Gambian and African cultures?

c. What is unique about the book?

4. Post your REVIEW NOTE (just 100 words maximum) in the comment box on this blog.

Once you have completed the FOUR STEPS, send a WhatsApp message to +220 7791631 to be booked for your free tickets.

My special wishes to you! 

To schedule or book me for public lectures/ book launches/ conferences/ readings/ scriptwriting/ keynote/motivational speaking events, please email: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com 

 © All Rights Reserved! Thank you for reading and following my blog. Should you wish to use any of my articles for research, lectures, personal use, etc.,.. kindly address your message to: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com. 

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Damaged Love written by Haddy Jobe

Some years have passed by, 

Some moments of joy and sadness have flown away, 

Some people I loved became strangers, 

Some friends became enemies, 

Betrayal was never a stranger to me, 

Life wasn’t easy, as I kept thinking about all the mistakes I've made. 

When I trust, trust is broken. 

When I love, they stop loving. 

To find the answers to my questions was all I ever wanted. 

But, then, I never did forget the damage of love. 

I was slowly loosing myself; 

My own strength became my weaknesses;

The world never stopped breaking my heart. 

I now looked at my past and laugh at how silly I once was. 

To live, to love, and to be loved, was all I ever wanted.

 I miss you more than I thought I would. 

But, then, again, the fear of rejection holds me back.

I cried more than I taught I would.

But this journey of love and war never stopped colliding.

Life teaches,

Time heals,

But these wounds will never heal.

I am entangled in a battle:

A battle of fear and rejection.

My pain can’t be hidden anymore;

Once lovers, now strangers.

My love for you has locked me in a dungeon 

In which I will never escape.

SHORT BIOGRAPHY:

Haddy Jobe was born on 15 December 2002 in Barra, North Bank Region (NBR), The Gambia. 

Haddy is a young passionate writer who wants to make difference in her community and uplift the voices of Gambian women.

She writes poetry and her first poem is titled “Damaged Love”. 

She wants to be a renowned author in her country and beyond.

Her writings always touches the heart, they are enjoyable to read, and easily relatable.

My special wishes to you! To schedule or book me for public lectures/ book launches/ conferences/ readings/ scriptwriting/ keynote/motivational speaking events, please email: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com

 © All Rights Reserved! Thank you for reading and following my blog. Should you wish to use any of my articles for research, lectures, personal use, etc.,.. kindly address your message to: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com. Copying any of my articles without written permission is an infringement of Copyright.

The Return of the Nobel Prize in Literature Since 1993: Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe on Abdulrazak Gurnah’s Nobel Prize Win

The Return of the Nobel Prize in Literature Since 1993: Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe on Abdulrazak Gurnah’s Nobel Prize Win

If books were revelations, writers would have been prophets, and libraries would have been temples. But since revelation involved both books and people, the earth must be a reading place. ''Educating the mind without educating the heart is no education at all.'' — Aristotle. In addition, writers play a fundamental role in education and research, and to be successful in our globalized information-saturated world -- readers must not only acquire content knowledge in their selected disciplines, but also develop their ability to find, evaluate, and use information efficiently and ethically. 

Re-reading oneself to understand why one is read, spoken about, and seen as human - is an act of self-evaluation in education. In a race, one comes out first or second, or even last. But in writing, one does not need to come out first or second. But, of course, a writer has to be appreciated for his/her good work. What writing and cooking share in common is that they must both whet the appetite of their consumers. Abdulrazak Gurnah has come to show us that African literature is still African at its best. If I can understand Shakespeare, you can understand me, or Wole Soyinka. 1993-2021 talent beats knowledge, again. Humans aren't humanity's friends. 

African literature is undergoing series of transformations since the demise of Chinua Achebe in 2013. Most African writers residing abroad now write contemporary stories reflecting their influence and not their origin. Hardly one finds an African writer living in the United States or the United Kingdom whose writing has not been completely influenced by the environment he or she lives in. In the words of Chinua Achebe, the icon of African literature, ''If you don't like someone's story, write your own. Nobody can teach me who I am. You can describe parts of me, but who I am - and what I need - is something I have to find out myself.''

 The Nobel Prize in Literature returned home at a better time when the United Nations General Assembly Resolution (Ref.: A/74/396, 18 December 2019) proclaimed the International Decade of Indigenous Languages starting from 2022 to 2032 with a preparatory period from 2020 to 2021. Since 1993, Abdulrazak Gurnah is the first black African writer in 35 years to win the prize since Nigeria’s Wole Soyinka in 1988, the first black writer since US’ Toni Morrison in 1993, and the first African writer since Doris Lessing’s 2007 win.

In decolonizing the mind, African writers should always portray the importance of written and oral African works as key components of art in their work. Poetry is what speaks when the heart is too heavy to bring forth words. Stories tell us what we should be told about ourselves, but dramas are what both funnily hurt and entertain us when we are too inhuman to laugh for us humans. 

In recognition of our meritorious service to God and our continent, Africa, for a long time has witnessed various forms of moral crises in our social system, including the persecution of writers and the disappearance of journalists. If you stare too long at the past, you're going to see a gigantic and fascinating gap of silence and alterations in our continent's literacy history.

From the Realms of Darkness to the Gothic Fiction Age, not all American writers agreed with the Transcendentalist notions that the divine is implicit and that people are essentially good. Some felt that these views did not adequately take into account the darker side of human nature, the presence of suffering in the world, and the ongoing conflict between good and evil. 

For centuries, American Indians have relied fundamentally on spoken language for diplomacy, decision-making, and preservation of their history and culture. In American Indian cultures, spoken language mystically links the natural and spiritual world and has the power to shape events. 

 On the contrary, Africans have heavily relied on oral traditions for far too long to pass judgments and handed down their history from one generation to another. Of course, writers help in the preservation of the African cultural identity and, subsequently, the heritage which is almost always under constant threat of annihilation by the colonialist. A writer then takes the African story forward and exports it to the rest of the world so that it can appreciate that beauty. While countries like The Gambia and Senegal are yet to win the Nobel Prize for Literature, Tanzania and Nigeria have proven that the language of humanity is human. And to speak to the world, you must first speak in your native language. 

''𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.” —𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐰. Our mind is incredible. What we tell ourselves is what we begin to believe, and our beliefs turn into actions. These actions turn into results, so if you’re unhappy with your results, you start by changing your mindset.

While many believe that Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie should have won this year's Nobel prize, writing is not a race to finish up with wins or losses. Writing is a specific discipline of thoughts and ideas. It is the only institution of human dignity where one writes what pleases him to please others. A writer must be read!

Written by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe

My special wishes to you! To schedule or book me for public lectures/ book launches/ conferences/ readings/ scriptwriting/ keynote/motivational speaking events, please email:

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 © All Rights Reserved! Thank you for reading and following my blog. Should you wish to use any of my articles for research, lectures, personal use, etc.,.. kindly address your message to: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com. 

Copying any of my articles without written permission is an infringement of Copyright.

Book Launch and Unveiling of Award of Excellence for African Literature

Join us for the anticipated release of Don't Judge The Book By The Cover, a debut book of Gambian literature well-received throughout the world -- written by award-winning Gambian writer Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe. Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe recently won an award of excellence for his contributions in African literature, awarded to him by the International Association of African Authors and Scholars (IAAAS) at the IAAAS Book and Leadership Summit in Atlanta, Georgia, USA.

The award will be unveiled by government officials, the book industry stakeholders, scholars, writers, teachers, and members of the diaspora. The main activities of the event are:
Book Review,
Award Ceremony,
Birthday,
Reading,
Signing,
Music & Poetry.

VIP 500
ADV D300
GATE D200
Contact +220 7791631 for more info!
#dontjudgethebookbythecover

My special wishes to you! To schedule or book me for public lectures/ book launches/ conferences/ readings/ scriptwriting/ keynote/motivational speaking events, please email:

 modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com 

 © All Rights Reserved! 

Thank you for reading and following my blog. Should you wish to use any of my articles for research, lectures, personal use, etc.,.. kindly address your message to: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com. Copying any of my articles without written permission is an infringement of Copyright.

Letter To Satan : I am Not Sorry

Letter to Satan that I never spoke

Poems I thought about that I never wrote

Sentences on a paper that I never said

Listen to these stories that I must read

Dirt on my shirt that must be cleaned

Lyrics of a poem you've never seen

I am not stories that you heard, Diva

I was born smart since the time of La Divaz

I'm not sorry to accept the love I never had

Satan knows I am not Haddy Ceesay

I refused the Illuminatti, ask what she says

''Fly in the milk

Drink the milk and get rid of the fly''

I've been judged before I met George

They wanted to baptize me to Saint George

I've seen a lot

Been through hell and back

Front and back

But I've got a lot more to write than to say

I met Satan and all his fallen angels

But they all know I am not an angel

From the freezer to the fridge

ML is cooler

ML is higher, ML is Fula,

Gambian by mistake

Not a baby who feeds on cornflakes

I hustle with the muscle

My story is like Bill Russel

I lost my virginity in Virginia

To Queen Regina

Cali-Zantelate, gimme space, lemme ventilate

I'm not sorry 

To be my own stories

I've been through a lot

From doom to decadence

Right to wrong

Character assassination to hatred

Lies and accusations

Heartbreaks and deformation

Give me all these reformations

But fuck it, I hate this nation

And I'm not sorry

How can I fail because of people I don't know?

I write differently

In indifference

Living the present past of my future tense

My life is so tense with tensions

And I need no attention

I'm the author of my vision

Am on a mission to the vision

From North Bank to Western Division

Is the president

Sitting behind the Statehouse

Secretary with bigger breasts

Handing me files to sign

Giving me her sauce to dine

I am not sorry

I broke many hearts

Because they broke mine too

But I am not just sorry

I am not sorry that I do not sell my soul

I know you must not understand this blindfold

But everyone knows ML is just fucking bold

I am not sorry

To be born a Muslim

14 years later, I wrote my first book

I am an Islamic therapist

More extremist than an existentialist

I am a dinosaur

I find this cure

Before you judge me, analyze, read my blueprint

Did you see the winner as the first-runner

Writers of Satan, you see that in your country

What ancestors did they bring to the summit?

To give me what I needed, what they need to take from me

They needed my soul

But I am not sorry to be a Muslim

My special wishes to you! To schedule or book me for public lectures/ book launches/ conferences/ readings/ scriptwriting/ keynote/motivational speaking events, please email: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com © All Rights Reserved! Thank you for reading and following my blog. Should you wish to use any of my articles for research, lectures, personal use, etc.,.. kindly address your message to: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com. Copying any of my articles without written permission is an infringement of Copyright.

Music Press Release: KOMBONKA RELEASES NEW SINGLE “Nyaal Beh Loring Nnkang (FEAT. HUSSAIN DADA)

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

OFF Forthcoming ALBUM YALONG NGALONG

 

22 JUNE 2021 (Banjul, The Gambia) — Today, Gambian-bred hip-hop Afro-Manding King, Kombonka shares his latest single, a hard-hitting and hypnotic track called “Nyaal Beh Loring Nnkang ” Featuring Gambian-born rapper HUSSAIN DADA. Kombonka’s forthcoming debut album YALONG NGALONG, is due to be out later on 8th January 2022 at Q-City. The talented rapper is set to release his exciting debut album, a move that will thrill his army of fans across the world.

 

Click on this link to watch the song:

https://linktr.ee/Kombonka

 “Nyaal Beh Loring Nnkang” is built on an aggressive rhythm. It’s one of my best flows. HUSSAIN DADA and I let loose and this song bridges the gap between my career and The Gambia’s music scene.“

 

Produced by Capeland Beat, mixed, and mastered by Malang Fatty MOB, “Nyaal Beh Loring Nnkang” is the latest offering from a fast-rising artiste with a proven track record of boldly defying genre boundaries. This time around, the King of Afro-Manding rap delivers one of his most formidable tracks to date, showing the full force of his commanding vocals and expert wordplay. As “Nyaal Beh Loring Nnkang” unfolds in baleful textures and brilliantly warped instrumentation.

HUSSAIN DADA slides in and shows off the fiercely magnetic vocal presence. The award-winning Afro-Fusion artiste also works towards his album launch on November 13th, 2021 at Q-city.

 

                                                               ABOUT KOMBONKA:

Born Ebrima Touray from Medina Salam, "Kombonka" Alias “The King of Manding Rap is a Top Gambian rapper currently signed to GSC Records, and working on his debut album. His style of music blends the rich traditional Afro-manding Music from The Gambia with Trap and Hip Hop in general.

Rapping in Mandinka and English, Kombonka’s style could be associated with that of top African rappers such as Sarkodie, Eldee, Phyno, and Olamide. His technique and delivery always carry the right amount of energy required to convey the message making this young man an incredible talent enjoyable to watch, follow and listen to.

 

Signed:

Media and Communication Team, GSC Record

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Love After Heartbreak Poem by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe

I got grief in my eyes

Salt in my knees, sugar in my blood, hurt but still laugh

Fall in love but still love you, but love isn't kind

Musa, go but never mind

I shouted for a voice, not mine

Jumped ahead of time

I cried tears of patrol, seen nights full of you

Burnt into ashes, I hate the news broadcast

Tell that to the weather forecast

Some things are better off forgotten

But I better not forget you

I wished I never knew a version of love like yours

Do you wanna know how many times I tore myself apart?

Does it make you feel alive?

To break my heart

I had to die to finally let you go

The sun misses me out b'cos of your moon

To me, every morning is not noon, even this afternoon

A story gets rewritten so blasphemous

But I made Jesus walk, I am not afraid to go to hell

And you were so perfectly imperfect, but I love your imperfections

Bae,

I felt an exasperation of pain inside my abdomen

Your love was such a bad omen

But I loved you with all the torments

Reminiscing the moments of love

We kissed, the places we visited, the food I cooked for you

You met me heartbroken

You loved me and left me broken

Is this what love is all about?

After all the feelings you've awoken

I've got parts of me I'm trying to lose

My love for you, even GRTS cannot news

 I got my imperfections but love is not perfect

My love has scars I can't hide

This pain I cannot write

Hold on Bae!

Am tryna put you on the shelf to myself

But the voices in my head

Made me so sick in bed

But before I end, I cannot bend, I must, but pen

Depression and anxiety

Kept externally, surfaced on the outside

I need to learn to love myself before I can fall in love

I can't hold your heart when I'm fixing mine

 I wish you were mine

You know you got the key to my heart

Why break the padlock? 

If I ain't claiming your kingship tell me who deserves the title

I'm Oumie, am not Isatou, why date Fatou?

Your throat dry from the pain she puts you in

But you still love me and you know I sink you in

I'm inhuman for us humans

If I were not a witch, I would have been eaten by GAMBIAN lizards

I love you so much and is the picture I paint

Love me with all my imperfections

Much as you would like me to do the same for you

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THE PROMISED MESSIAH WAS MUHAMMAD (S.A.W) ( Poetry)

The Kaaba (Arabic: ٱلْكَعْبَة‎, romanized: al-Kaʿbah, lit. 'The Cube', Arabic pronunciation: [kaʕ.bah]), also spelled Ka'bah or Kabah, sometimes referred to as al-Kaʿbah al-Musharrafah (Arabic: ٱلْكَعْبَة ٱلْمُشَرَّفَة‎, romanized: al-Kaʿbah al-Musharrafah, lit. 'Honored Ka'bah'), is a building at the center of Islam's most important mosque, the Masjid al-Haram in Mecca, Saudi Arabia.^[1] It is the most sacred site in Islam.^[2] It is considered by Muslims to be the Bayt Allah (Arabic: بَيْت ٱللَّٰه‎, lit. 'House of God') and is the qibla (Arabic: قِبْلَة‎, direction of prayer) for Muslims around the world when performing salah. Soruce: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaaba

You died an honorable dead; I thank you like ‘Alhamdoulillah’

R.I.P, I wouldn’t say ‘Astagfurllah’

I thank you for the light you’ve brought to us

And your guidance, ‘SubhanAllah’

The Promised Messiah, “Ya Rasulallah”

Al-Amin your beautiful name, ‘Fatabarakallah’

Ya-Muhammad (S.A.W)

The beloved son of Amina and Abdallah

Grandson of Abdul Mutalib and Nephew of Abou Talib

Blood and fiber of Bannu-Quraiys

The truth is bitter but nobody is better than you

Who was the last prophet if not you? 

 

The breath of the truth

The ink and pages of the Holy Qur’an

The sky of wisdom

The cloud of honesty and the rain of modesty

The ocean of patience and steadfastness

The Seal of Messengers and Prophets

The righteous of righteousness

The judge of the law and the lawyer of judges

The magistrate of faith and the invincible author of authors

Imam of the ‘’Masjids’’

The savior of jinns and mankind

The Best of Creation

The Promised Messiah,

The only God chosen genius and the brain of intellectuals

Throne of kings and ornament of angels

The apparatus of scientists

You got wounded at the battle of Uhúd in the name of Islam

We know your true intention

The Holy Qur’an given to you is indeed the final book

 

Your farewell sermon spoke a lot about your Islamic devotion

You died but we are still undergoing your corrections

The Five Pillars of Islam you erected is truly a foundation

I wish I could thank you for all your deliberations

Your dead we couldn’t stand in lamentation

If death was exchangeable, your tears we wouldn’t cry

We were living raw in darkness and you made us ripe

The truth you brought ended many lies

You guided us from wrong to right

‘’Ihdinas siraatal musta-qiim’’, you’ve placed us on the Right Path

Islam stands securely on the earth 

And the Qur'an is not a book like Things Fall Apart

Judgment day will come

When those who contradict the Holy Qur’an 

And denied you will stand aside

All disbelievers and fake prophets who refuse to convert to Islam

Will grovel to hell in flights

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