![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCMHbYfzFsBSlGYUpx2p_XyFWTOc9djryPtPfbptkvxmMAbWgZ7P7a_O_uAgiCztf9TZJW9uaGYjQLB25SjkoNuAvE6kGo-6g12JOok6264nLohEo3Jn-mjieMm0NQ9nXp1pUYQ4U0Cxc/s320/pa%2526ma.jpg)
salam alaik,
baru2 ni ana mula kerja sebagai seorg guru. ajar apa dan di mana.. biarlah rahsia, tak tambah amal pun kalau tahu... alang2 ana jd guru di situ, apa lagi ana serang la library dia... jd guru ni byk benefits antaranya no limitation for borrowing [ well, as long as i return i them back] tapi mungkin buat masa ni je kot atau kat skola tu je kot... entah la malas nak cakap banyak... tapi yang ana nak kongsi ni adalah satu poem ana jumpa dalam buku element of literature jilid, brape carila..
Those Winter Sundays
-RobertHayden-
Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the
blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather
made
banked fires blaze. No one ever
thanked him.
I'd wake and hear the cold splintering,
breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of
that house,
speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?
-RobertHayden-
Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the
blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather
made
banked fires blaze. No one ever
thanked him.
I'd wake and hear the cold splintering,
breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of
that house,
speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh44jcoUMB1Sl-1ZA1tMUvZgk_JDUqMzO4sFH-bou320Q1qGmKtElidZkKM2LkxDZvz4ApMRB6Tbh4HqBcb9EypZWpRKJUcchX8u_z4F9L4tWBsxD-i3Huj4ms4Xmigd0QcuLZdCwHp40rh/s320/marah.jpg)
poem ni mengingatkan bertapa kadang2 kita sebagai anak ni jarang bersyukur dengan nikmat ibu bapa yang kita ada... sering saje kita mengeluh, memberontak dalam diam... ntah laa.. kadang2 kita kesian kat mak ayah kita tp kita tetap buat... dan diorg tetap sabar, sayang kita bagai kitalah dunia mereka... dan kita?? kita ni minta itu, minta ini.. laju je mulut tapi bila mereka minta ambilkan air sambil kita sedang asyik lakukan sesuatu.. astargfirullah.. kita tetap buat tapi mulut ni kadang keluar bunyi yang mengecewakan kalau kita mendengar... tapi mak ayah kita .. ana suarakan je yang ana perlu something.. malam tu juga diorg hantar.. bila ana kata menyusahkan mak ayah diorg cakap bukannye ana kat US sampai tak leh hantar... itu kisah ana.. antum pula?? mesti antum baikkan pada ibu bapa antum.. jgn jd macam ana tapi jadilah seperti salah seorang pemuda yg terperangkap di dalam gua...
ingat pesan ar-Rasul, berbakti terhadap ibu bapa dan beramal baik terhadap mereka lebih penting dari jihad dan segalanya.. well next to Allah that is.. akhir kata buat mereka yang punya ibu bapa lagi, pergilah kepada mereka.. ciumlah, peluklah mereka sementara mereka masih hidup dan ucapkan sayang.. jgn malu utk mengatakan sayang pada ibu bapa kerna tiada malu dalam berkasih bersama mereka...dan mereka yang sudah tiada ibu atau ayah atau keduanya sekali.. doakanlah utk mereka.. jgn lupakan mereka dalam kesibukkan kita mengejar dunia dan akhirat kerna apabila anak adam mati terputus segala amal kecuali tiga dan DOA ANAK SOLEH antara penerus amal mereka... ingatlah kerna merekalah permulaan kita...
seems like based on lakonan time camping arituhh je..hehe
ReplyDeletesmoga kita sama2 usaha mnjadi ank yg solehah,dunia akhirat insyaAllah :)