Stand for the Teacher, Honor Him
Stand for the teacher and give him the honor he deserves.
For the teacher is close to being a messenger.
Do you know anyone nobler or greater
Than he who builds and enlightens souls and minds?
Glory be to You, O Allah, best of teachers,
You taught with the pen in the earliest eras.
You brought this intellect out from its darkness
And guided it towards the clear light.
And you have shaped it by the teacher’s hand,
Sometimes rusty and sometimes polished.
You sent Moses with the Torah as a guide,
And taught the Gospel to the son of the Virgin.
And you broke forth the fountain of expression in Muhammad,
So he spread the Hadith and delivered the revelation.
You educated Greece and Egypt, and they were liberated
From every sun that they desired to overshadow.
Today, they stand in a childlike state,
In knowledge, they are absent as if still infants.
From the east of the earth, many suns appeared
Yet what is with their west that casts them in darkness?
O land, since the teacher has lost himself,
Amidst the suns and your eastern facade!
Those who preserved the truth of their knowledge have perished,
While they savored their torment as a bitter drink.
In a world that binds life,
With a singular burden, shackled and confined.
The tyrant’s worldly temptations have slain him,
With a blow from the sun, their heads now stagger.
Socrates offered the cup, which was his death,
With the lips of a lover yearning for the kiss.
They presented life to him, which was folly,
Yet he refused, choosing instead a noble death.
Indeed, courage is abundant in hearts,
But I found few brave souls amongst the guarded minds.
Indeed, the one who created the bitter truth,
Has not left a generation among the lovers of truth.
Perhaps love has slain its champions,
For how many have perished in pursuit of it?
Is every protector of truth merely gathering
At the blackness of burdens and triviality?
If I were to believe in the cross and its sermon,
I would establish a monument from the crucifixion.
O teacher of the valley and nurturer of its youth,
And the guides of its promising young men,
And those who when called upon to teach,
Bear the burden of trust heavily and responsively.
We had a light step toward him,
And the path was set at every corner.
Until we saw Egypt taking a step,
In knowledge, when kingdoms tilt and sway.
Those ignorant plains since the reign of Khufu,
Have seen no guiding light or beacon.
You find those who built the obelisk, their descendants,
Are far from mastering the craft of the needle.
And they are seduced when they wish to be led,
Like sheep content when they see guidance.
Men recite their desires upon them,
And successful ones would sound a beautiful tune.
Ignorance does not allow a group to thrive,
How does life fare at the hands of ignorance?
And if it were not for tongues and intellect,
That have circulated among the brilliant youth.
And if they nurtured forty of their souls,
To confront despair and plant hope.
They recognized the areas of their barrenness, and it continued,
Like an eye pouring forth and a cloud flowing.
They do good to their nations and are humbled
From being rewarded with beautiful praise.
Neither the lesson was poor nor its teaching,
In times of hardship, will they not sing a verse.
They have raised the noble boys of the homeland
You would find them custodians of rights like wise elders.
For he builds honorable character,
And he builds souls justly.
And he establishes every crooked logic’s clarity,
And shows them a genuine perspective in all matters.
And if the teacher is unjust, then justice will
Be a faint spirit within the youth.
And if the teacher’s gaze is unkind and insightful,
Then from his hands, discernment will fall.
And if guidance comes from lust’s cause,
Or from the lies of vanity, call it deception.
If the people are struck by corruption,
Then establish a mourning and lament over them.
Indeed, I excuse you and consider your burden
Amongst the burdens of men as quite heavy.
You have found assistance from others, and you have been deprived,
In Egypt of a great supportive presence.
And when women grow up in ignorance,
Men will feed off their foolishness and sluggishness.
The orphan is not one whose parents have passed,
Leaving him in the woes of life and bringing disgrace.
But he who receives less from the wise of them,
And good upbringing from the timing of his hands.
Indeed, the orphan is he who has
A mother who is gone or a father who is preoccupied.
When Egypt revisits its days,
It finds no lies matching that of a great Sabbath.
The parliament shall tomorrow extend its hall,
Casting a shadow upon the cheerful valley.
We hope when education awakens its yearning,
It shall not be stingy upon the lands.
Tell the youth today, blessed is your sowing,
The fruits are near and are humbled upon the ground.
Salute every concealed martyr,
And place a wreath upon their stones.
That the living may have a share of your gratitude,
And the dead may gain from it abundantly.
Let not the constitution touch its essence in you,
Until it sees its soldier’s hidden strength.
I call upon you, those pure bloods,
Do not send any ignorance to parliament.
For someone will surely ask about the seats,
“Have they carried a blessing or a burden?”
If you have introduced an incomplete representative,
You will not find when its totality is fulfilled.
So invoke for it men of trust and make
For the insightful among them the distinction.
Indeed, the negligent may turn away and you shall not see
The foolish ignorance as a shame.
For surely a statement in men you have heard,
Then passed away, as though it were never said.
And how you have supported dignity and passion,
He who was among you has become forsaken.
Generosity and forgiveness bloom among the youth,
As the youth were generous in manners and inclination.
Gather the people of lineage and raise
The voice of youth, beloved and welcomed.
How far the goals are, but for me,
I find steadfastness in you, as though it were achievable.
Place your trust in Allah for success,
For indeed, Allah is the best guardian and the protector.
The Teacher’s Poem by Ibrahim Tuka
Shawqi says and doesn’t realize my affliction,
“Stand for the teacher, honor him.”
Is it fitting for you to sit, may I dedicate myself to the one
Who is a companion to the young?
And the prince disturbs me with his saying,
“The teacher is close to being a messenger.”
If Shawqi had experienced teaching for just an hour,
He would have spent life in misery and laziness.
For the teacher bears sorrow and gloom,
Seeing the notebooks at dawn and dusk.
One hundred on one hundred, if they are repaired,
Blindness would find its way to the sight.
And if there were any benefit in repairing,
By Allah, I would not have been miserly in sharing vision.
But to correct a grammatical error,
For example, and make the book a guide.
Referencing the finest of its verses,
Or detailing the Hadith precisely.
And I delve into ancient poetry, selecting
What is neither ambiguous nor widely shared.
I might be tempted to resurrect Sibawayh,
And his companions from the early centuries.
Yet I see a donkey after all this,
Raising the added and the object.
Do not be surprised if one day I shout,
And I lie lifeless among the seasons.
O who desires to commit suicide, I have found him,
For indeed, the teacher does not live long.
A Voice from the Last Row by Mohammed Al-Thubaiti
Have you ever been in life a messenger,
Or just a worker hidden in its shadow?
You generously offer your spirit as a means toward immortality,
And you were blessed with little fortune in eternity.
And you stood behind this journey, turning away,
From being with the first ranks.
Generations race to conquer lofty heights,
While you sit, should I call you lazy?
What hindered you from delving into its depths,
When others have ventured forth with resolve?
They said you are a fighter in life,
“Building and nurturing souls and minds.”
They laughed at Shawqi when he philosophized,
“Stand for the teacher, honor him.”
Will they truly assess you with the cadence of their speech
Or replace your aspirations with an alternative?
What have you gained, but the dishonor from those you
Have fed with a toast of knowledge for so long?
And you cleared from his eyes every veil,
And bestowed upon him the gift of youth as a path.
The faltering steps, weary of strength,
Lean on him with love and acceptance.
Until he straightened through knowledge,
And walked a little along the long road.
Yet you averted yourself from him, ignoring and dismissing,
While others gazed upon you with a sense of superiority and disdain.
As if your hand had never gently caressed his cheek,
Not once, nor had you shown him kindness.
O kindler of the lamps, the beat of his heart,
Beware of your heart, and beware of the candle.
For the universe is a vast sea, in which
Those who have built a fortress or lit a path are forgotten.
And the past behind your steps is silent, empty,
And the future ahead is dying on the path.
So uplift your thoughts and shine a beacon for the youth,
And let it not seek mere honor.