DUNIA SERBA TUHAN ATAWA TUHAN SEMAKIN BANYAK

Terkesan dengan puisi-puisi Gus Mus, saya coba search puisi-puisi Gus Mus yang terbaru, dan akhirnya sampailah di GusMus.NET. Di kolom "embun", saya melihat daftar puisi-puisi Gus Mus, dan langsung tertarik pada judul puisi ini, Dunia Serba Tuhan Atawa Tuhan Semakin Banyak, hehehe... sangat mewakili perasaan saya.. tentu saja selain puisi Kau Ini Bagaimana Atau Aku Harus Bagaimana .. ^_^

DUNIA SERBA TUHAN ATAWA TUHAN SEMAKIN BANYAK

Di mana-mana semakin banyak tuhan
Di Irak dan Iran
Di Israel dan Afganistan
Di Libanon dan Nikaragua
Di India dan Srilangka
Di JEpang dan Cina
Di Korea dan Pilipina

Tuhan semakin banyak
Di Amerika dan Rusia
Di Eropa dan Asia
Di Afrika dan Australia
Di NATO dan PAlta Warsawa
Di PBB dan badan-badan dunia

Dimana-mana tuhan, ya Tuhan
Disini pun semua serba tuhan
Disini pun tuhan merajalela
Memenuhi desa dan kota
Mesjid dan gereja
Kuil dan pura
Menggagahi mimbar dan seminar
Kantor dan sanggar
Dewan dan pasar
Mendominasi lalu lintas
Orpol dan ormas
Swasta dan dinas

Ya Tuhan, di sana-sini semua serba tuhan
Pernyataanku pernyataan tuhan!
Kebijaksanaanku kebijaksanaan tuhan!
Keputusanku keputusan tuhan!
Pikiranku pikiran tuhan!
Pendapatku pendapat tuhan!
Tulisanku tulisan tuhan!
Usahaku usaha tuhan!
Khutbahku khutbah tuhan!
Fatwaku fatwa tuhan!
Lembagaku lembaga tuhan
Jama’ahku jamaah tuhan!
Keluargaku keluarga tuhan!
Puisiku puisi tuhan!
Kritikanku kritikan tuhan!
Darahku darah tuhan!
Akuku aku tuhan!

Ya Tuhan!

1987+1429

aku tak bisa lagi menyanyi - oleh Mustofa Bisri -

bagiku kini tak ada lagi lirik dan musik yang menarik
untuk kunyanyikan bersamamu atau sendiri

burung-burung terlalu berisik
mendendangkan apa saja setelah mereka merdeka
membuatku tak dapat lagi mengenali suaramu atau suaraku sendiri

taman tempat kita istirah.. becek darah..
yang seharusnya tak tumpah..

jalan-jalan tempat kita mendekatkan hati
tertutup dihadang geram dan amarah

malam-malam tempat kita menyembunyikan cinta
telah dionarkan kobaran kebencian..

daging-daging yang selama ini kita manjakan pun
ikut terpanggang api dendam

udara di sekitar kita meluapkan bau terlalu anyir..
dan lalat-lalat berpesta dimana-mana..

bagaimana aku bisa menyanyi..
aku tak mampu meski menyanyikan lagu duka..
aku tak bisa mengadukan duka pada duka
mengeluhkan luka pada luka
senar gitarku putus
dan aku tak yakin mampu menyambungnya lagi

dan langit pun seolah sudah muak
dengan lagu-lagu bumi yang sumbang

maaf sayang,
aku tak bisa lagi menyanyi bersamamu atau sendiri
entah..
jika tiba-tiba nabi daud datang membawa seruling ajaibnya

November, 1998

sujud -- oleh Mustofa Bisri --

bagaimana kau hendak bersujud pasrah
sedang wajahmu yang bersih sumringah
keningmu yang mulia dan indah
begitu pongah minta sajadah
agar tak menyentuh tanah

apakah kau melihatnya
seperti iblis saat menolak
menyembah bapamu dengan congkak
tanah hanya patut diinjak
tempat kencing dan berak
membuang ludah dan dahak
atau paling jauh
hanya lahan pemanjaan nafsu serakah dan tamak

apakah kau lupa bahwa tanah
adalah bapa dari mana ibumu dilahirkan
tanah adalah ibu yang menyusuimu dan memberi makan
tanah adalah kawan
yang memelukmu dalam kesendirian
dalam perjalanan panjang menuju keabadian

singkirkan saja sajadah mahalmu
ratakan keningmu
latakan heningmu
tanahkan wajahmu
pasrahkan jiwamu
biarlah rahmat agung Allah membelaimu
dan terbanglah..
kekasih..

dzikir malam --oleh Mustofa Bisri--

langit memimpin dzikir malam
membaca wirid hening
dalam hitungan renyai hujan
dan manik-manik keringat dinginku

angin mendesirkan tasbih
bersama pucuk-pucuk pohon di mulut pori-poriku
sesekali kilat memucatkan rumput-rumput
mencuatkan lidah-lidah laut
dalam gemuruh tahmid
bersama khauf raja’-ku

sementara petir dan guruh bergantian
meneriakkan takbir dari puncak
diamku
langit memimpin dzikir malam
di bumi kelam gelisahku

1415

Asrar - e - Khudi chapter III

Ini adalah salah satu bagian dari buku Asrar-e-Khudi karya penyair Pakistan, Muhammad Iqbal. Cuplikan berikut dikutip dari terjemahan Asrar-e-Khudi oleh Reynold A. Nicholson. Asrar-e-Khudi sendiri diartikan The Secrets of the Self.

THE SELF IS STRENGTHENED BY LOVE

The luminous point whose name is the Self
Is the life-spark beneath our dust.
By Love it is made more I sting,
More living, more burning, more glowing.
From Love proceeds the radiance of its being.
And the development of its unknown possibilities.
Its nature gathers fire from Love,
Love instructs it to illumine the world.
Love fears neither sword nor dagger,
Love is not born of water and air and earth.
Love makes peace and war in the world,
Love is the Fountain of Life, Love is the flashing sword of Death.
The hardest rocks are shivered by Love's glance:
Love of God at last becomes wholly God,
Learn thou to love, and seek a beloved:
Seek an eye like Noah's, a heart like Job's !
Transmute thy handful of earth into gold,
Kiss the threshold of a Perfect Man!
Like Rumi, light the candle
And burn Rum in the fire of Tabriz !
There is a beloved hidden within thine heart:
I will show him to thee, if thou hast eyes to see.
His lovers are fairer than the fair,
Sweeter and comelier and more beloved.
By. love of him the heart is made strong
And earth rubs shoulders with the Pleiades.
The soil of Najd was quickened by his grace
And fell into a rapture and rose to the skies
In the Muslim 's heart is the home of Muhammad,
All our glory is from the name of Muhammad.
Sinai is but an eddy of the dust of his house,
His dwelling-place is a sanctuary to the Ka'ba itself.
Eternity is less than a moment of his time,
Eternity receives increase, from his essence.
He slept on a mat of rushes,
But the crown of Chosroes was under his people's feet.
He chose the nightly solitude of Mount Hira,
And he founded a state and laws and government.
He passed many a night with sleepless eyes
In order that the Muslims might sleep on the throne of Persia.
In the hour of battle, iron was melted by the fash of his sword;
In the hour of prayer, tears fell like rain from his eye.
When he prayed for Divine help, his sword answered "Amen"
And extirpated the race of kings.
He instituted new laws in the world,
He brought the empires of antiquity to an end.
With the key of religion he opened the door of this world:
The womb of the world never bore his like.
In his sight high and low were one,
He sat with his slave at one table.
The daughter of the chieftain of Tai was taken prisoner in battle
And brought into that exalted presence
Her feet in chains, unveiled, she was,
And her neck bowed with shame
When the Prophet saw that the -, poor girl had no veil,
He covered her face with his own mantle.
We are more naked than that lady of Tai,
We are unveiled before the nations of the world.
In him is our trust on the Day of Judgement,
And in this world too he is our protector.
Both his favour and his wrath are entirely a mercy:
That is a mercy to his friends and this to his foes.
He opened the gate of mercy to his enemies,
He gave to Mecca the message, "No penalty shall be laid upon you."
We who know not the bonds of country
Resemble sight, which is one though it be the light of two eyes.
We belong to the Hijaz and China and Persia,
Yet we are the dew of one smiling dawn.
We are all under the spell of the eye of the cup bearer from Mecca,
We are united as wine and cup.
He burnt clean away distinctions of lineage.
His fire consumed this trash and rubble.
We are like a rose with many petals but with one perfume:
He is the soul of this society, and he is one
We are the secret concealed in his heart:
He spake out fearlessly, and we were revealed.
The song of love for him fills my silent reed,
A hundred notes throb in my bosom.
How shall I tell what devotion he inspires ?
A block of dry wood wept at porting from him.
The Muslim's being is where he manifests his glory:
Many a Sinai springs from the dust on his path.
My image was created by his- mirror,
My dawn rises from the sun of his breast.
My repose is a perpetual fever,
My evening hotter than the morning of Judgment Day:
He is the April cloud and I his garden,
My vine is bedewed with his rain.
Ii sowed mine eye in the field of Love
And reaped, a harvest of vision.
"The soil of Medina is sweeter than both worlds:
Oh, happy the town where dwell the Beloved!"
I am lost in admiration of the style of Mulla Jami:
His verse and prose are a remedy for my immaturity.
He has written poetry overflowing with beautiful ideas;
And has threaded pearls in praise of the Master-
"Muhammad is the preface to the book of the universe;
All the worlds are slaves and he is the Master."
From the wine of Love spring many spiritual qualities:
Amongst the attributes of Love is blind devotion.
The saint of Bistam, who in devotion was unique,
Abstained from eating a water-melon.
Be a lover constant in devotion to thy beloved,
That thou mayst cast thy nose and capture God.
Sojourn for a while on the Hira of the heart.
Abandon self and flee to God.
Strengthened by God, return to they self
And break the heads of the Lat and Uzza of sensuality.
By the might of Love evoke an army
Reveal thyself on the Faran of Love,
That the Lord of the Ka'ba may show thee favour
And make thee the object of the text, "Lo, I will appoint a vicegerent on the earth."

***