Anuarbek Bokebay

It was due to the favourable and burgeoning impact that Yassawi and those following him began to have, that enabled our people, Kazakhs, to become significantly more exposed to a higher level of spiritual rebirth. This, in turn, led to a spiritual integration of the nation, which around five hundred years ago helped create a singular vast territory at the centre of the Eurasian continent. From this time on there followed a whole series of harsh vicissitudes, at times threatening total extinction. Yet in spite of these challenges, in the late twentieth century when the independent State of Kazakhstan broke its bonds from the Soviet Empire, the spiritual heritage of the people returned.

Through the filthy world I walked like a hungry dog,
Feverishly prowling the trail day and night,
Disobeying directions blindly ignored the Lord,
O friends, where shall I go, what shall I do? Yes, I.

Evil ego has ensnared the children of man,
Tying their hands tightly in a knot,
Unable to know their left from their right,
Alas, I am heavily saddened, Yes, I.

At one-years old the spirits of the dead gifted me,
At two the prophets came visiting,
At three the Chiltan showed interest in me.
So it was at sixty-three I went underground.

At four years old, in Truth, Mustafa gave me persimmon,
Showed me the way, that hidden path many had found,
Everywhere I travelled the holy Khidr accompanied me.
So it was at sixty-three I went underground.

At five years old immersed myself in worship,
Keeping Ramadan became common practice,
Day and night I perfumed Zikrs with joy.
So it was at sixty-three I went underground.

At six, I did not hang around, avoided people,
Raised myself to heaven where angels gave their lessons,
Broke earthly ties, cut all connections.
So it was at sixty-three I went underground.

At seven Arystan Bab found me,
Was shown the many layers of secrets hidden within me,
Thanking Allah, for kissing my footsteps.
So it was at sixty-three I went underground.

Aged seven at the feet of Arystan Bab,
Entrusted to pass on the gift of the Truth of Mustafa,
Completed a thousand and one Zikrs instantly,
Harnessing the ego brought me to Lamakan, Yes, I.

Persimmon passed, patting my head in admiration,
He left for the other world
Farewell to this one,
Then on to school I went, overflowing with joy, Yes, I.

At eight years old eight paths revealed,
Unfolding Hikmet through Light to yield,
Allah be praised, from the Prophet's cup to sup.
So it was at sixty-three I went underground.

At nine years old, devoid of doubt, stepped on the path of-Truth,
Calling names in Tabbaruk was passed from hand to hand,
These words upset me, so fled into the steppes.
So it was at sixty-three I went underground.

At ten years old I became honourable servant Hoja Ahmed,
Do not doubt the correctness of Hoja’s path,
Remaining halfway on the path as Hoja – nothing worse.
So it was at sixty-three I went underground…………………

At eleven the river of Grace fulfilled me,
Uttering Allah, Shaitan left me,
Passion, pride and arrogance were unknown,
Thus at twelve I comprehended many secrets, Yes, I.

At thirteen I embraced ego and passion,
With a hundred thousand curses whirling around,
Trampling arrogance into the ground,
At fourteen, I dissolved as dust Yes, I.

At fifteen was greeted by heavenly maidens and youths,
Bowing heads and crossing arms over chest,
From the heavenly realm Firdaws a messenger came,
Yet I rejected all for God's Face, Yes, I.

At sixteen was gifted communing the el-Arweh,
With a cry of "To you be Tabbaruk” Adam appeared,
Saying "My child" as he embraced and indulged me,
At seventeen I lived in Turkestan, Yes, I.

At eighteen, drank wine with the Chiltan,
Did Zikr regularly, revealing my inner self,
Blessed, I wandered in Paradise, amongst the angelic host,
In the Lord, witnessing the magnificence of Mustafa, Yes, I.

At nineteen seventy levels clarified,
Held Zikr, cleansing inner and outer,
Wherever I went Khidr accompanied,
Ghaus-ul-Ghiaz quenched my raging thirst, Yes, I.

At twenty I moved through another level,
Allah be praised, began the work of the chosen ones,
All creatures great and small honoured and bowed to me,
For this reason I drew closer to Haqq, Yes, I.

Poor servant Ahmed who has reached twenty-one,
What will you do with sins higher than mountains?
On Judgment Day when suffering is laid before Parvardigar,
What answer to give, my friends Yes, I.

At twenty-two I merged with God,
For those who suffered most I healed,
Both lovers false and true, I witnessed all,
Thus I pray to the Divine, Yes, I.

At twenty three, my friends,
Mere pretence of patience and lip service God I save,
What shall I do as Judgment Day will find me lost?
Thus I pray to the Divine, Yes, I.

Now, twenty four and far from God,
How shall I face Judgment Day unarmed?
When I die beat me one hundred thousand times,
Thus I pray to the Divine, Yes, I…..

With all these vices twenty-five I reached,
Dear Lord through Zikr pierce my chest,
Untie the aggregated knots I keep within,
Thus I pray to the Divine, Yes, I.

Then twenty six I found myself in trade,
Like Mansur, crying out for the Face of God,
Lacking teacher fell further into misery,
Thus I pray to the Divine, Yes, I.

At twenty seven found my mentor,
Unearthed several secrets, covered with a veil,
And prostrate on his doorstep kissed his feet,
Thus I pray to the Divine, Yes, I.

At twenty-eight became a lover,
Sleepless' nights, endured through love's transfixion,
That gifted me a place within HIs House,
Thus l pray to the Divine, Yes, I.

In suffering mv twenty-ninth year began.
Unable to turn the fire of love to ashes,
Enduring profound longing, tears continuously ran,
Thus I pray to the Divine, Yes, I.

In my thirtieth year like brushwood I burned,
All saints gathered and barred me from worldly ways,
Beaten, berated, diverted from worldly view,
Thus I pray to the Divine, Yes, I.

At thirty one Khidr offered the cup of sacred wine,
the Lord Himself drove out the evil within,
I bartered my faults yet the Lord forgave me,
From then the Lord placed me upon His path, my friends.

At thirty-two the edicts came dawn from the Lord,
"Do not worry you have been made a servant,
Death will turn your faith into enlightenment."
My poor spirit rejoiced, my friends.

This message came from my Creator, I was content,
Enduring those berating and beating me, patience grew
Denying the sleep of the world, I became ready,
Desire, passion and arrogance fell away, my friends.

At thirty-three I became generous with no worries,
Draining the draught divine,
Resourcing my forces, with Shaitan I fought,
Praise be to Allah, all sense of ego died, my friends.

At thirty-four became wise and scholarly,
Subhan ordered me, "Compose Hikmet” then verses flowed,
Befriended by the forty angels I shared their sweet cup,
Inner and outer filling with the light of the Lord, my friends.

At thirty five attended mosque with godly glow,
Availing Talib hearts to Love's sweet succour,
Reined in their knavish struggles on the Way,
Enamoured they were blessed with the Lords Grace, my friends.

At thirty-six I grew in grace,
Lord Mustafa, revealed His Light,
Upon that Light eyes filled with tears, prostrate I fell,
The blade of love my heart and liver shred, mv friends.

On reaching thirty seven, did not wake up,
Content in the Lord turned not away,
During Fajr [early morning prayer], no bitter tears fell,
Repenting, my Lord accepted me, my friends.

On reaching thirty-eight my life was gone.
I could cry, with death approaching,
Death arrived, and life's end was handed over,
This end of life was not apparent, my friends.

At thirty-nine I suffered grievous torture,
Alas, life has gone, where was the service?
Serving the Lord is a source of joy,
Devoid of service, lifeblood fades.

At forty one set out to find the path,
Entrusted secrets, held them tight,
Intent on kissing the feet of Pir-Mugan,
O Lord Almighty, I worship only You.

At forty-two became a disciple, devoted to the path,
With diligence and a focused heart turned to God,
Travelled into Arsh, Kursi and Qalam,
O Lord Almighty, I worship only You.

At forty-three, in sorrow I searched for God,
Shed tears like overflowing springs,
Wandered deserts, seeking was a mirage to this traveller,
O Lord Almighty, I worship only You.-

At forty four frequented love's bazaar,
In awe I wept by beds of love,
Like Mansur losing his head to the gallows for love,
O Lord Almighty, I worship only You.

At forty five in need I turned to You and prayed,
Begging forgiveness for all mistakes I made,'
Oh Allah, I have known Thy great mercy,
O Lord Almighty, I worship only You.

At forty six my longing and affection overflowed,
A single drop of Mercy banished Shaitan,
And inspiration through God revealed the Truth,
O Lord Almighty, I worship only You.

At forty seven clarity from seven corners came,
My generous Lord a euphoric cup he gave,
Shaitan returned to claim ego and desires,
O Lord Almighty I worship only You.

At forty eight ready to renounce my soul,
Was overcome by sinful malady, began to fail,
Thus, in fear of the Lord, I never closed my eyes,
O Lord Almighty, I worship only You.

At forty nine love touched, scorched and seared me,
As it did Manjun, who fled his hearth,
Multiple tests were thrust on me yet patient I remained,
O Lord Almighty, I worship only You.

At fifty I considered myself a daredevil, yet weak in spirit,
Did not shed tears of blood nor tore my soul out,
Yet like a wolfhound sniffed out base thoughts everywhere,
O Lord Almighty, I worship only You.

At fifty-one I wandered the deserts, eating grass,
Annihilating myself in God's service I climbed mountains,
Unable to see God's Face, yet the soul satisfied,
Bir wa Bar, shall I see the Face of God?

At fifty-two, I renounced all trappings of home,
What worth are these trappings if the soul is released,
Renounced head, heart and faith,
Bir wa Bar, shall I see the Face of God?

At fifty-three I was offered the sweet nectar of Source,
Lost, I was placed back on the path,
Reciting ‘Allah’, He responded with, ’Labbai’,
Bir wa Bar, shall I see the Face of God?,

At fifty-four my whole being was moved,
On the field of Ma’rifat I worked diligently,
Like Ishmail, I sacrificed my precious life,
Bir wa Bar, shall I see the Face of God?

At fifty-five my love craved the Face of God,
Burning, incinerated as a withered flower,
Thanking God, searching for His Face, I disappeared,
Bir wa Bir, shall I see the Face of God?

I am fifty-six and feeling deep sadness,
Repenting, not knowing if tears would stream from my eyes,
Avoided the example of the righteous, my heart was as stone,
Bir wa Bar, shall I see the Face of God?

Fifty seven came and went,
Yes, my friends, no amal just a pounding head,
My teacher held my hand, thank God,
Bir wa Bar shall I see the Face of God?

Nothing learned I stepped into my fifty eighth year,
Lord Qahhar, destroy my ego,
Diligently I struck my ego with an axe,
Bir wa Bar, shall I see the Face of God?'

At fifty nine arrived crying incessantly,
With little understanding the repercussions of a soul in love,
What do I need to do to gain your freedom?
Bir wa Bar, shall I see the Face of God?

In a blink of an eye I reached sixty,
Rolling up my sleeves, not one good deed did I do,
Spending winter and summer, day and night frivolously,
Blr wa Bar, shall I see the Face of God?

At sixty one, dispirited at all my sins,
Yes, my friends, oft afraid of God,
Detached from my heart, I begged God's protection,
Bir wa Bar shall I see the Face of God?

At sixty-two, Allah enlightened me,
From head to foot cleared me from lax living,
My heart, my soul, mind and memory cried "Allah,”
Bir wa Bar, shall I see the Face of God?

At sixty-three the message came "Go underground, beloved,
I am your beloved soul,  so give it.
With the sword of 'Hu' in hand, destroy your ego,”
Bir wa Bar, shall I see the Face of God?'

"It was a Seljuk king who brought Rumi, the great Sufi poet, to Konya; and it was in Seljuq times that Ahmad Yesevi, another great Sufi, lived and taught. The influence of those two remarkable teachers has continued to the present."