The Most Beautiful Arabic Poems

You Are the Tear-Resistant Hero of Patience

As expressed by Abu Firas Al-Hamdani:

You are the one who’s resistant to tears, and patience is your virtue.

Is there no prohibition against passion upon you?

Indeed, I am yearning with a fervent desire,

Yet, those like me do not reveal their secrets.

When the night envelops me, I extend my hand in longing

And soften my heart that has been hardened by pride.

The fire within me is almost ignited,

When the ardor and contemplation stir it.

Using love as a remedy, and death lies between us,

If I must die of thirst, may no rain fall for me.

I have preserved what I should, yet you have wasted our bond,

For your excellence in loyalty gives you an excuse.

These days are merely pages,

Written by the hand of their creator, human touch.

Woe is me, who wanders amidst the living,

In love, my fault is my joy’s excuse.

I evade the gossipers, though I possess

An ear that hears everything they say.

I appear, with my family present, for I believe

That a home is desolate where I am not a part.

I have fought with my tribe for your love. Indeed, if it were not

For your affection, I would succumb to water and wine.

If what the slanderers claim is false,

Then faith will dismantle what disbelief has built.

There is in loyalty some humiliation,

For a woman in the living whose character is treachery.

She is dignified, yet the bloom of youth provokes her,

And she can sometimes roar like a wild mare.

She inquires, “Who are you?” while she knowingly does,

And would you doubt a young man like me in my condition?

I replied as she wished, and as her desires dictated:

“Your victim,” she said. “Which of them?” Indeed, there are many.

I answered, “If you wanted, you need not have feigned ignorance,

And not ask about me when you are aware of my situation.”

She replied, “Fate has worn you down since we parted.”

“I swear it’s not fate, but you, in truth,” I exclaimed.

For without you, sorrows cannot find their way

To the heart, yet love is a bridge to decay.

Stricken between levity and seriousness lies the soul,

If all else fails, the agony of separation torments it.

Hence, I realized, after you, there is no honor for a lover,

And that my hand from what I clung to is empty.

When the People Desire Life

As voiced by Abu Al-Qasim Al-Shabi:

When the people one day desire life,

Then surely fate must respond.

And the night must inevitably clear,

And the chains must be broken.

Those who do not embrace life’s yearning,

Will evaporate in its atmosphere and vanish.

Woe to those who life does not shape,

Into the sting of victorious non-existence.

Thus spoke the universe to me,

And whispered to me its hidden spirit.

The winds roared across the paths,

Above mountains and below trees.

Whenever I aspired to a goal,

I rode my wishes and forgot caution.

I did not shy away from the rugged slopes,

Nor from the flames of the searing heat.

And he who does not love to climb mountains

Will forever dwell among the pits.

My heart surged with the blood of youth,

And other winds stirred within my chest.

I paused to listen to the thunder’s crash,

And the music of the winds and the sound of rain.

The earth questioned me when I asked,

“Mother, do you loathe humanity?”

I bless in people the ambitious souls,

And those who savor taking risks.

I curse those who do not keep pace with time,

And are satisfied with the dull life of stone.

The universe is alive; it loves life,

And scorns the dead, no matter how grand.

For neither the horizon embraces a dead bird,

Nor does the bee caress a wilted flower.

Were it not for the maternal warmth of my compassionate heart,

The dead would not find a resting place in the graves.

Woe to those who life has not embraced,

From the curse of the triumphant void.

The Poem of Sorrow

As stated by Nizar Qabbani:

Your love taught me to grieve,

And I have long needed it.

I seek a woman who brings me sorrow,

A woman in whose arms I can weep,

Like a little bird…

A woman who gathers my scattered parts,

Like pieces of shattered glass.

Your love has taught me, my lady,

The worst of habits.

It has taught me to open my cup,

Thousands of times a night.

To try the remedies of herbalists,

And to knock on the doors of seers.

Your love has taught me to leave my home,

To wander the sidewalks,

Chasing your face,

In the rain and the car lights.

Chasing your shadow,

Even in the flyers.

Your love has taught me

How to roam aimlessly for hours,

In search of a gypsy hair

That all the gypsies envy.

Searching for a face, a voice,

That embodies all faces and voices.

Your love admitted me to cities of sorrow,

And I had never entered before.

I had never known that tears defined humanity;

That a human without sorrow

Is merely a memory of a human.

Your love has shown me

How to behave like a child,

To draw your face in chalk on the walls,

On the sails of fishermen,

On the bells,

On the crosses.

Your love has taught me

How love alters the map of time.

Your love taught me that when I love,

The earth stops turning.

It revealed to me things I never expected.

So I read children’s tales,

I entered the palaces of fairy kings,

And dreamed that you would marry me,

The Sultan’s daughter.

Her eyes are clearer than the waters of the bay,

Her lips sweeter than pomegranate blossoms.

And I dreamt of kidnapping her,

Like a knight.

And dreamed of gifting her

Necklaces of pearls and corals.

Your love has taught me, my lady, what madness is.

It taught me how time passes,

And the Sultan’s daughter never arrives.

I Returned to Myself and Held My Faults Accountable

As articulated by Hafiz Ibrahim:

I returned to myself and held my faults accountable,

I called upon my people and contemplated my life.

They accused me of barrenness in youth, and I wish I were,

For I did not despair at the words of my enemies.

I was born, yet when I did not find strong men for my brides,

I buried my daughters.

I encompassed Allah’s book in wording and meaning,

And I have not failed in a verse or a lesson.

How can I now be constrained by describing a tool,

And arranging names for inventions?

I am an ocean, with pearls hidden within,

Did they ask the divers about my shells?

Woe to you, my dear, if you perish, and my virtues perish,

And from you, even if the cure is rare.

Do not leave me to time, for I fear for you,

That the time of my demise may arrive.

I see Western men honored and empowered,

And how many nations have gained honor with the might of their languages.

They came to their people with miracles as an art,

So I wish you would come with words.

Does a crow call my grave in the spring of my life?

If you scare the bird, you will understand

What lies beneath of stumble and confusion.

May Allah nourish in the land of the island, bones

It pains me for them to break my chains.

They have kept my bond through decay, and I have preserved it,

For they reside in a heart filled with longings.

And I pride myself among the Westerners while the East is bowed,

In shame before those hollow bones.

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