The Power of Love: A Reflection on the Art of Communication
Among Al-Mutanabbi’s notable verses on love:
Love does not inhibit the expressions of our tongues,
And the sweetest lament of an unannounced lover.
If only my beloved would forsake slumber’s escape,
Without any offense, we remain connected through pain.
We have spent the night together, and if you adorned us, you would not know
The colors we bear due to our changing emotions.
Our breaths ignited in such intensity that I feared
The critics would burn amid us.
I would sacrifice for the farewell of that which I followed
With a glance, solitary amidst successive sighs.
Once, I denied the arrival of calamities,
Then I confessed, and it became our constant.
I traversed the worldly desolation and its burdens,
In the time of dawn and its turmoil.
I stopped in my path as the rain compelled me,
Reaching the desires inspired by Badr ibn Ammar.
To Abu Al-Hussein, who has a generous heart,
Which does not find sufficiency, even if time itself were its vessel.
His valor dispensed with the need for words,
While the coward’s discourse forbids us from cowardice.
His saddlebags are fastened with a strap from the prayer niche,
An unyielding spirit; will he ever retreat?
It is as if he, while facing a spear,
Fears that the blows from behind might strike us.
His acute mind dispelled illusions,
Thus he relied on the certainty of the unseen.
The tyrant trembles at sudden occurrences,
And remains in solitary contemplation.
He consumes his will as he nears his appointed fate,
Finding in his quest the realm of possibilities.
He feels the iron upon the softness of his skin,
A garment lighter than silk and more gentle.
And more bitter than the loss of loved ones to him,
Is the loss of swords that have deserted us.
Fear does not find respite in his ribs,
Nor does kindness remain if we do not act kindly.
He derives from his knowledge what tomorrow holds,
It seems as if what is meant to be was noted.
Understanding falls short of comprehending it,
Like how the universe operates in motion.
Those who are not among his slain from the captive,
Find little consolation amidst the calamities faced.
When you returned from the shores toward us,
Was there not a wilderness longing for you?
The road stank, but wherever you would pass,
Fragrance would take up residency.
If the trees you encountered could reason,
They would reach out to you with their branches.
Like statues of the immortal, drawn by longing,
They turned their gaze toward you.
Our vessels danced, making us believe that if not for
Modesty, they would have danced with us.
You approached, smiling, while the steeds were frowning,
They galloped with spiraled halters and spears.
Their reins could hardly hold them,
Had you longed for their necks, it would have been easy.
And the matters lie within your control while the hearts tremble,
In a moment suspended between destiny and desire.
So I marvel, enough to wonder about the wonders,
And I saw, yet it was like witnessing brightness.
I see in you a legion of virtues,
In an army where nobility is bred.
My heart awakened to what I faced in sorrow,
And to what I left behind in fear of being caught.
Your separation has become a punishment for me,
Not the afflictions I’ve suffered being trifling.
Therefore, forgive me for your sake, let love emerge in me again,
So that I may receive from her a token that belongs to me.
And oversea her counsel, possessed by limits,
For the free man is tested by the offspring of misery.
And if a lad dismisses speech in disregard,
In a gathering where discourse reflects his essence.
The schemes of the fools will inevitably befall them,
And the animosity of poets is indeed a poor return.
Damned is the comparison with the mean, for it is
A guest dragging along his remorse.
The wrath of the envious, when they meet you content,
Becomes a burden too light for me to bear.
All that is cast in the presence of your lord becomes disbelieving,
With no one among us, thanks to you, who truly believes.
The towns are deserted by deer after nightfall,
Yet God compensated for you, so that you lament not.
Let Not Events Be Celebrated or Condemned
Al-Mutanabbi laments his grandmother in the following poem:
Let not events be praised or condemned,
For they are neither fierce from ignorance nor restrained by reason.
To a point like what was true of the youth,
He returns as he appears and continues as I cast.
O God, from the devastation faced by a beloved,
The slain by yearning whom oblivion does not imprint.
I long for the cup she drank from,
And wish for her resting spot, the earth that envelops her.
I wept over her, fearing for her in life,
And we both tasted the loss of a companion long ago.
Even if estrangement were to slay all lovers,
A homeland remains that solidifies its ties.
I recognized the nights before they shaped us,
Yet when trouble befell me, it added no knowledge.
Her benefits did not harm the benefit of another,
Nourishing and ensuring she does not suffer from hunger or thirst.
My letter reached her after despair and longing for her,
And she died from joy at the news while I succumbed to sorrow.
It is a crime for my heart to find joy when I count
What she died with as poison.
She marveled at my speech and script as if,
She were to see strange letters etched in ink.
And my ink bled till it became
The very tears she shed and her fangs darkened.
Her flowing tears and drained lids
Were reminders of her love that would last till death.
Nothing distracted her except what was fated, yet
More intense than the ailment that took her away.
I sought fortune for her but it fled from me,
And she would have accepted me had I consented to her destiny.
Thus, I became one to request rain for her grave,
Having once asked rain for glory and piercing lances.
Just before death, I would magnify the departure,
For the lesser has become the greater that once was the most beloved.
Let me avenge you from enemies, so I may claim my due,
But how could I take revenge on fever?
The world has not closed in around me from its narrowness,
But a glance from you makes my heart blind.
O Sword of the State of God, May You Forever Endure
Al-Mutanabbi extols the virtues of the Sword of State:
O Sword of the State of God, may you endure forever,
And live abundantly in the face of foes.
What astonishes the people but a tent that fell,
From the virtues until it cast down its post?
It bowed to your face, resting on the ground,
Just as one prostrates before God from devotion.
O Abu Abdul-Ilah, Mu’adh, Indeed I Am
A poem by Al-Mutanabbi of reproach:
O Abu Abdul-Ilah, Mu’adh, indeed I am
Hidden from you in the heat of confrontation,
I remembered a significant matter concerning my requests,
Where we gamble our lives in the stakes.
Should one like me waver from calamities,
And shudder at the encounter with death?
Even if time appeared to me as a person,
His hair would be stained with blood from my strikes.
And the time never completed its decree,
Nor did its hands obey sway.
When the eyes of the steeds fill with pain from me,
Then woe is me, in waking and in slumber!
Should the Companion Decide to Depart
Al-Mutanabbi praises Badr ibn Ammar in the following verses:
If the companion resolved to depart,
The rain would enhance the glow of their cheeks.
O gaze that dispelled sleep and abandoned it,
On the edge of my heart, as I cherished it.
It was from the black-eyed ones, my desire laying bare,
Yet, only a glimmer resonates in my heart.
I perceive disdain for you is noble indeed,
While patience stands only in your presence as delightful.
I see your many affections, well-received,
And your few coyness, endearingly restrained.
The stares of beauties from the maidens secretly shall
Wail on the day of parting lightly.
Those eyes disdain the slaying of other than you,
As for Badr ibn Ammar, son of Ismail.
He is the reliever of great sorrows through such,
And the one who deems the regally glorious humbled.
A choice obtained when the debtor delays in repayment,
Transforming the sword to what it meant to ensure.
He speaks with the words unheard and lifted the veil,
Giving by words rationale to hearts.
Time will deliver bounty to him, generously,
Yet perhaps through him, it will solely remain stingy.
It is as if a lightning bolt flares from the clouds,
In his outstretched hand that appears to shoot forth sustenance.
Where his foot settles shall flow generous gifts,
If there was a stream, we could not cease flowing.
His chats envelop us like a feather,
As if they unveil cherished desires for the necks.
O defender of the lion with wrath,
What was saved remains the true sword in hand.
A calamity descended upon the Jordan from him,
Plaguing with the bodies of companions lay scattered.
Late to arrive at the lake while drinking,
Reaching the Euphrates shrouded in terror.
Bloody from the valor of the champions adorned,
In his domain adorned with noble attire.
His eyes met not with any but perceived it,
Under the night, it shimmered like the frontiers.
Amidst the solitude of hermits, he yet fails to comprehend
Permitted and prohibited from what takes effect.
He treads the earth, leisurely, yet losing himself in ego,
As if he were on a top, measuring greatness.
And returns the dust back to his head,
Until it becomes a crown adorning him.
And appears as if his roaring self,
For excessive wrath renders him occupied.