Al-Fiyyashiyah (What's Wrong?)

I woke up this morning singing this song, attributed to the Algerian/Moroccan Sufi figure Uthman ibn Yahia Al-Sharqi (aka Sidi Bahlul). The most complete text of the poem that I could find online is available here. After listening to a dozen or so renditions, I felt driven either to write some Arabic verses in the same meter and rhyming theme (not that I don't like the original, but some of its verses are repetitive and touch me much less than others), or to write a translation of the main verses.

There are dozens of Youtube videos and songs of the poem, including a relatively traditional modernized rendition at the 2017 Mawazine Festival in Rabat, Morocco, where Sami Yusuf offered a few translated verses together with the traditional rendition. Sami Yusuf also has a fully English version professionally recorded (followed by some Arabic), which attempted to keep the meter and rhyming theme so that it can be sung to the same tune. However, I wasn't happy with the translation -- which at times seemed too literal, not sufficiently literal, or contrived... Mine below is equally bad on all dimensions, also to keep the meter, although I have decided not to rhyme...

I wanted to mention how this song came to haunt me this morning. A decade ago, my late father became very sick (and died six months later). He was suffering from liver cirrhosis -- a very common disease in my native Egypt, mainly because of the Hepatitis C epidemic that was not guarded against when they merely boiled needles (the CDC tells us that this is not sufficient to kill the virus).

One of the worst things about liver disease is that it causes disturbances in blood chemistry which make the brain malfunction. In between episodes of anguish over his mental state during my visit ten years ago, my late father seemed to have moments of extreme lucidity, during which I tried quickly to have a few final good, but necessarily short, conversations with him. On one such occasion, when I noticed that he was lucid, I blurted out my biggest fear: "I am worried for my children." He simply smiled with a raised eyebrow that I read as "how silly!" and he just said: "ربنا موجود," which literally means "God exists," but is used as an everyday Egyptian colloquialism meaning "don't worry, leave it to a higher power, all will be well."

This is the central message of the poem, which is often sung interspersed with adoration of the Prophet at the same:

اللهم صَلِّ على المصطفى ... حبيبنا محمد عليه السلام
May God shower mercy upon the Chosen-one ... our beloved Muhammad, upon him be peace

Each segments starts with the main refrain, which is a quick-double-rhythm couplet, and then proceeds in six-verse segments that begin with a slower-single-rhythm couplet that explains the point to be made followed by a quatrain that makes the same point more poetically at the quicker double rhythm... I'll translate only a few segments here, because the meanings merely repeat with different examples... It is a meant to bring about a mystic trance (and mental peace) after many repetitions of the rhythm slowing down then speeding up again, leading to another chanting of the main refrain...

أنا ما لي فياش ...  اش عليا مني 
What's wrong with me? What's wrong? ... What have I caused myself?
نقلق من رزقي لاش ... و الخالق يرزقني 
I fear poverty! Why, ... while my Maker sustains?

أنا عبد ربي له قدرة ... يهون بها كل أمر عسير 
I belong to my Lord who has such great power ... before which every difficulty must be eased
فان كنت عبدا ضعيف القوى ... فربي على كل شيء قدير 
So although I'm a servant who is very weak ... my Lord has full power over every affair

مني اش عليا ... أنا عبد مملوك 
What do I have that's mine? ... I am a slave who's owned
و الأشيا مقضيا ... ما في التحقيق شكوك 
All my needs will be met ... there's no doubt with Vision
ربي ناظر فيا ... و نا نظري متروك 
My Lord chooses for me ... and my own choice is void
في الأرحام و في الأحشا ... من نطفة صورني
He made me in a womb ... (without my choice or help)

... [skipping a lot of verses]

أنا ما لي فياش ...  اش عليا مني 
What's wrong with me? What's wrong? ... What have I caused myself? 
نقلق من رزقي لاش ... و الخالق يرزقني 
I fear poverty! Why, ... while my maker sustains?

تجولت بالفكر في هل اتى ... و قلت لقلبي كفاك الجليل 
My mind did wonder over all that may become ... but I told my heart: Hush, the Transcendent sustains
مدبر أمري و لا علم لي ... هو الله حسبي و نعم الوكيل 
He plans all my affairs, and I have no knowledge ... He is my God, sustainer, upon whom I rely

ثق يا قلبي بالله ... فهو المعطي المانع 
My heart: Have faith in God ... He gives and takes away
و ارض باحكام الله ... لنك اليه راجع 
And accept God's decrees ... because you must return
ماذا في علم الله ... الخير في الواقع 
Whatever God will bring ... it must be for the best
تدبيرك ما يسواش ... من تدبيرك دعني
Your plans have no value ... so, please, don't plan for me

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The last translated verse is reminiscent of the great fourth aphorism of Ibn `Ataillah in his Book of Wisdom: 
"أرح نفسك من التدبير... فما قام به غيرك عنك لا تقم به لنفسك" -- 
"Don't exert yourself in planning... because whatever Another has already done on your behalf, you should not do for yourself."