Praise of Aisha
A dignified mare that bears no suspicion,
And awakens fully sated from the flesh of the heedless.
The wife of the best of people in religion and position,
The Prophet of guidance and sublime virtues.
The esteemed lady of the clan of Luey ibn Ghalib,
Of noble endeavors, her glory is everlasting.
<p refined and pure, blessed by God in her abode,
And cleansed from all vice and falsehood.
If I have uttered what you claim,
Then let not the whip of accusation rise to my fingers.
Indeed, what has been said is unbefitting
For someone of her status; it’s merely the talk of a disgraced person.
So how could my loyalty, as long as I live, and my support
Be for the family of God’s Prophet, the adornment of assemblies?
He holds high ranks above all people,
Which belittles the audacity of the arrogant.
I have seen you, and may God forgive you, a free woman,
Among the honorable ones, untainted by misdeeds.
Whispers of the Spot on the Cheek in the Envious
Whispers about the beauty mark on the cheek are filled with envy,
And truly, the companion of the heavenly one is illustrious to me.
He turns a hand from her garment while he is capable,
And defies passion in her dreams while he sleeps.
When will the lovesick find solace from the pains of longing,
A lover close yet distanced in affection?
If you fear disgrace in every solitude,
Why do lovely maidens appeal to you?
Disease has pressed upon me until I have become accustomed to it,
And my physician has grown weary of my ailments.
I passed by the beloved’s home, and my steeds neighed,
Do the mounts lament the absence of their homes?
And what does the crowd deny of the place that holds?
It was nourished by the flow of its springs.
Am I striving for something while the nights seem to chase me
From its being, and I chase them back?
Alone among friends in every land,
When high demands rise, help becomes scant.
They offer me joy in wave after wave,
A river with valleys of its own witness.
Wrapping around with the extent of attacks, as if
Her joints are underneath the spears to morn.
I imbibe myself, with the sword in my hand,
At wells flowing where no one can retreat.
But if the heart cannot carry its load,
It will not be that the hand carries forth.
My companions, I see no poet besides me,
So why the claims from them and the poems from me?
Do not be surprised that the swords are abundant,
But the sword of the state today is one.
It is of noble disposition in war, poised,
And of the custom of kindness and forgiveness, gracious.
And when I saw the people in their proper position,
I was certain that time is a severe accuser of humanity.
The one most deserving of the sword is he who strikes offensively,
And the one who grants peace is he who fears hardships.
And the most regrettable of lands are those of the Romans,
This is what leads me to deny your vanity.
You launched assaults until you left it,
While the eyelid of those behind the fire remains watchful.
Stained, and the people laid low as if they were,
And even if they are not, they are prostrated.
They are lowered in their pastures,
And the spears pierce them with cunning maneuvers.
And strike them fiercely and quietly settle,
As buried beneath the earth’s belly lies the fiercest.
And the imposing fortresses stand in the dew,
And your horses are their adornment.
They rushed upon them on the day of the encounter and drove them,
Until in captivity the Marshlands turned white.
And they lined afterward with the shores of Sabur,
And tasted the wrath of fate, both them and the crags.
And the valley where they were followed through,
Blessed is what lies beneath the two veils, dedicated.
A youth who craves to roam the lands and his time,
Is confined by them while aiming high.
Brother of battles, whose swords never dull,
Except where Sihhan remains stagnant.
So none remain but him who shields them from the dangers,
To her lips and the breasts of maidens.
They cried for them by night,
While they were reclining among us like the carefree.
Thus, the days concluded what was between them,
The misfortunes of a people serve as benefits for another.
And from the nobility of bravery, you belong to them,
In the face of death, upon whom you gaze.
And a blood you caused to flow is praiseworthy,
And a heart that trembles for you is grateful.
And everyone sees the paths of courage and generosity,
Yet the nature of the soul governs the soul.
You robbed from the lives a treasure that if attained,
Would have adorned the world with your eternity.
For you are the sword of kingship, and God’s hand strikes,
And you are the banner of faith, and God’s covenant is firm.
And you are the son of the fierce Jihad, O son of Hamdan,
A noble offspring that draws from noble lineage.
And Hamdan begets Hmdoon, and Hmdoon begets Harith,
And Harith begets Luqman, and Luqman begets Rashid.
Those are the very fangs of leadership, all of them,
And all rulers of the lands are their descendants.
I love you, O sun of time and its full moon,
Even if the absent embers of separation blame me.
And this is because your virtues are vast,
Not because life with you grows cold.
For love, when scarce, is good with the intellect,
And plenty of love, when ignorant, is corrupt.
As Worthy as the Resolute Come the Resolutions
As worthy as the resolute come the resolutions,
And they come in measure to the noble ones’ deeds.
And the humble magnify in the sight of the little,
And diminish in the gaze of the mighty.
The sword of the state demands its army’s attention,
Although the sharp armies are of little effect.
And he seeks from others what he expects of himself,
And that which is claimed cannot be disputed.
He will ransom the most exalted among the birds with his weapon,
Eagles of the air, its events are the crowning glories.
And what harm befalls her when she’s without claws?
For indeed, his swords and his poles are forged.
Do the red flashes recognize their hue?
And what is the source of the two drinkers of the tempest?
They quenched it with the graces before its descent,
And when it neared, the rain seized the hearts.
He raised it higher and the spear collided with the spear,
And the waves of death surged about her fiercely.
And there was within it like a frenzy, for it became,
And from the corpses of the slain adorned it.
A fate of time that it led them and cast down.
Upon duty, the ones of faith bowed down against the challenges.
The nights consume everything you have taken,
And they are whatever they seize from you in their naivety.
When doing what you intend to do is an incomplete action,
You turn before it’s laid upon you.
And how do you expect the Romans and the Russians to dismantle it,
Yet this thrust is the foundation and its support?
They have always given her time, death being its judge,
None of them died oppressed, nor did any live a tyrant’s life.
They approach you, dragging their chains as if they were,
Owned by horses worthy of support.
When they gleamed, the shine could not be known from the flanks of the horses,
Their garments from such cloth and their turbans.
A host in the East and the West on the march,
And in the ear of the genius lies a faint call.
There gather every tongue and every people,
And what the news contains but not the narrations.
So for God’s part, a time softened by deception,
Nothing remains but a sharp edge or dull edge.
What cannot sever armor and the spear will fall apart,
And there sounds a scattering among knights, those who do not clash.
You stand, and there is no doubt in death’s encounter,
As if you were resting in the eyelid of death’s slumbers.
The heroes advance to you, stricken by defeat,
And your countenance serene, your smile sweet.
You have surpassed the scale of bravery and intelligence,
To the claim of the people, you are a scholar of the unseen.
You embraced their wings around the heart with a hug,
Killing aids beneath them, and the drivers.
In one blow that came to the crowns with victory and pride,
And it became to the depths as victory approaches.
You have belittled all rudimentary things, so much as to throw them away,
Until the sword seems to mock the spear.
Whoever seeks the grand victory indeed,
Its keys lie with the swords that swiftly bite.
You scattered them over all the hills,
Just as coins are scattered over brides.
The horses trample the hills on the way,
And around the hills, the meals are abundant.
The chicks of the chicken believe you visited them,
Together in their spirited ardor.
If they slip, they just walk on their stomachs,
As venomous vipers tread upon the ground.
On every day, does this source ever stop?
Facing the threshold of manhood as worthy be.
Can the wind of the lion be denied until it is tasted,
And well-known to the animals is the wind of youth?
And woe unto him who has lost by his only son,
And by the marriage, it would sorrow the princes of war.
He left thanking his companions amidst the tumult,
For what has occupied his mind and the offerings.
And he understands the voice of the elite among them,
Though the voices of swords are refined accents.
You rejoice in what God has granted you without ignorance,
But as one who profits from the spoils.
And you are not a king vanquishing his counterparts,
Rather, you are unity vanquishing polytheism.
Adnan’s pride is the reason for your glory, not the verdant earth,
And the world is decorated with you, not the city.
To you be the praise in the pearl that I craft,
For indeed, you grant it and I come to shape it.
And I certainly chase your gifts in battle,
So neither I am rebuked nor are you regrettable.
For every flyer that reaches it with their legs,
Once it reaches their ears of all news.
O, bright sword, that is unsheathed and free,
No doubt lingers in it nor holds him back.
Joyous to strike the crowns and to fawn upon glory,
For I beseech you by God, may you remain safe from all harm.
Salutations to the Articulated and His Youth
Salutations to the articulators and their youth,
To you, O companions of assistance.
For you are the hopeful sovereigns of this land,
And you are the believers in distress.
Were it not for others like you,
The remnants of Qahtan would have been lost.
In the East, there lies an usurper of rights,
And trouble brews over his reign.
The articulated words have taken notice,
And shaken the very foundations of his domain.
With every intruder on his garment,
He delves deeply into the fabric of his protection.
They faded in the beauty of embellished decorum,
And desire less than his glorious heritage.
So there they dwell, feasting in their homes,
A weak presence for his alliance.
The raven rests upon his garden,
A place where the dove would settle by his beauty.
I see the East blinding my vision from seeing,
An esteemed writer honored in his embrace.
He wanders helplessly with his tyrant,
Weighing down the lineage of Luqman.
The journalist suffers in his homeland,
While Khosrow delights in his seat.
He pays for the gallows with our necks,
In lieu of the prince and his crowns.
Spilling our lives to assure the prince’s heart,
In deviation from the duties of his scripture.
He defies the verses of his Qur’an,
For this one laments to his sheikh.
While that one cries out to his priest,
Here is the East, honoring its uncle.
And cares for the turbans of its monks.
O Champion Scholar! You’ve Stood Tall
O champion scholar, who stood fast,
On the green Tunisia, where light did shine.
Who in the world among men bears his lessons,
That echo his highest status by praise and glory.
How many writings you begin on paper end, and how many
Jokes to rouse our spirits with his cleverness.
Until you began to uncover treasures, rejoice, for
From that place emerged melodies, and here again.
It seems the tongue of fortune gave you a sign,
And your mark of beginning to treasure its expanse.
May Allah Nourish the Garden of Al-Zubair
May Allah nourish the garden of Al-Zubair; may the river rafters contribute,
As long as it’s flowing, with its narrative softens.
We were granted a blessing here,
As it blossomed, softening the welcome heart.
It is the flourishing spot above all others,
How ample is its shade and how flowing is its water!
I am drawn to it in the closeness or from afar,
And surely, remembrance and love for it is just.
For my heart beats only for the stream towards him,
As long as I have held onto the familiarity.
O Son of Zuhair, I Offer You No More
O son of Zuhair, I offer you no further greetings,
Nor love, for space is vast.
Previously I thought of you as the one,
The champion directed towards paths of success.
Until something among you became clear to me,
More than I had seen in a child dear.
It’s come to me, the joyous progeny, your son,
His virtues among the people are praiseworthy.
Yet he stands in my position, lamenting you greatly,
And saying he is being straitened, a clear orator.
He weeps among the people, expressing his sorrow,
Over a lack of knowledge until he is overwhelmed.
Qais, ally of love, what is this blame if you would not
Be acquainted with the matter that seems so strange?
Do you claim my son complained of me and that he
Is an unjust transgressor in the gossip?
His words carry forth the burden of oppression, yet I placed him
In a school for two years, and he turned into an erudite!
For he gained knowledge of arithmetic and its rewards,
And returned with a talented hand to write succinctly.
I took him out afterward, and in my act,
I soothe, for it’s essential for God to oversee.
So what becomes of blame in light of what I’ve said?
You are in no position to tender blame hence.