Cease Your Blame, for Blame Tempts
Cease your blame, for blame is a temptation.
And heal me with the remedy that caused the ailment.
A yellow flower that does not let sorrows settle in its realm,
If a stone touches it, it feels good fortune.
From the hand of a proud woman, clad in men’s attire,
She has two lovers, one with carnal desires and one with infidelity.
She rose with her pitcher while the night was tempestuous,
A glow emanated from her face within the house.
From the mouth of the pitcher flowed a pure liquid,
As if it was taken with the eye’s acceptance.
It became delicate as water until it ceased to resemble it.
The smoothness rejected the likeness of water.
If it were mixed with light, it would emit bright rays,
Giving birth to forms of illumination.
It circulated among youths, those whom time has favored,
So nothing befalls them except what they wish.
For her, I weep, and I do not lament for a dwelling
Where Hind and Asma used to dwell.
It is far from a pearl to have tents pitched for her,
Or for camels and sheep to roam around her.
So tell the one who claims to possess philosophical knowledge,
You have retained something, but are ignorant of much.
Do not restrain forgiveness if you are a person of honor,
For your prohibition of it in religion is a disgrace.
When My Beloved Turned Away
When my beloved turned away and withheld
Messages and news from me,
My longing intensified, nearly consuming me,
As I remembered my beloved, with worry and thoughts.
I called upon Satan then I said to him,
In solitude while tears flowed,
Do you not see how I have suffered,
As my eyelids are sore from weeping and sleeplessness?
If you do not show compassion for my plight,
In my beloved’s heart, while you have the power,
I neither recite poetry nor listen to songs,
Nor does intoxication spread through my veins.
And I continue to study the Quran,
Relaxing in its verses and innovating in my approaches.
I persist in fasting and prayer without respite,
Yet my days pass in goodness with no heed.
Not three days later,
My beloved came to me, offering excuses.
O Lord, the Meeting of Youths I Longed For
O Lord, the gathering of youths I aspired to,
While the night lingered in a dark cloak,
To drink clear wine from a vessel’s mouth,
Its brilliance captivating the eyes of its drinkers.
As if its appearance and the water struck each other,
A tapestry or a richly adorned garment,
Extracted from joyful hands,
From the wine of the land or the wine from vineyards,
As if the bubbling of the pitcher among them
Echoed the sounds of flutes or the melodies of singing.
And when the gathering spread and flourished,
Their eyes from her caused a gentle drift.
I inquired of her seller, “How much for her?”
He replied, “This is beyond calculation.”
I was informed that my grandfather had chosen her,
From the treasures of Adam or Eve.
He kept postponing visitors to her tavern,
Until she came to me, a treasure for my revelry.
Among the gardens, we inhaled the breeze,
The scent of violets mixed with the aroma of lilies.
A youth, delicate in form, moved toward us,
Captivating the eye of the beholder,
With a shapely figure and glancing beauty.
As if in his palms lay the essence of henna,
His disheveled hair cascaded around his forehead
Adorned with redness at his temples.
His eyes convey a sweetness that heals ailments,
And perhaps they could remedy the pains of love.
I find myself drinking from his clear eyes,
And again sipping alongside my companions.
A chastiser who rebuked me in ignorance, I said to him,
I am enchanted by my beloved, even with your presence.
With Blazing Cheeks, His Gaze Enchants
With blazing cheeks, his gaze enchants,
He bears a mark reminiscent of the moon,
When he walks, he sways from beneath his neck,
His curves extending to his slender waist.
His steps are not definite, adorned with grace,
And when he strides upon the ground, he leaves an imprint.
I called upon the keeper of the tavern by night,
With diminished stature and a slumped back,
He came to me in the night, drawn closer as if
He drags a corpse or a spirit from the grave.
He brought his cheek nearer to the vessels,
And laughed joyfully from the intoxication of the wine.
He poured, and it sparkled, then spilled, and I inscribed
A line of eight surging laughs within a verse.
I said to the wine, “How many justifications do you hold?”
She replied, “I resided in the cup for an enduring time.”
I replied, “So the king of your secrets has come, and you frowned,”
She retorted, “You have faltered in your patience.”
I heard of Dhul-Qarnayn before he departed,
And the waves of Musa before his companion Khidr.
If I had dwelled there, I would inherit it,
Until the caller of Allah’s resurrection would summon.
Thus we spent the night in merry surroundings,
While Satan propelled us with the banners of inebriation.
O You, Bound by Guilt
O you, ensnared by sin,
I do not share the night nor the day.
I do not chase the birds away from the trees,
Having tasted the bitter from its fruit.
So connect if you are connected,
To those who are in pursuit of desires.
I feared the tales of the morrow,
And the day approached for those who await.
Woe to he who travels to a land,
Unknown in duration or destination.
And he joins those who support him,
When pain has gripped him deeply.
So move on, do not bestow favors upon me,
Kindness from you may carry bitterness.
O Lord of Youths, I placed my hopes,
Among the beautiful sceneries of magic.
Beware, my reputation is at stake with them,
For the fear of evil looms large.
A relative who conceals his secrets,
Is akin to a fire smoldering beneath stones.
And the drink I have savored
Quenches the thirsty from its waist.
May it be plain or worn out,
Betraying the watchful eyes from the dawn.
Do not observe the obvious unveiled to the sight,
For all fated deaths remain persistent.
He immersed me into the tide, boasting of protection,
Filling my heart with confidence.
So return to your truth,
When you seek the favor of the heavens.
How could you not be close to someone who holds hope,
When the messenger of Allah walks by your side?
Inquire about a deluge where optimism lies,
You should be content with Abbas from its bounty.
A king whose like is rare,
Whose eyes have not beheld dangers.
None could overshadow him in graciousness,
He nurtured a valley without flaws.
He subdued the wilderness for his vision,
He was chosen with insight.
Like the adornments of the spear forged in brass,
Death slowly revealed its forms to us.
The beasts expected graciously from starvation,
Trusting the fullness from the depths.
And the lords stood present,
For they were descendants of the sun from the moon.
With their varied suspicions,
Guarded against concealed thoughts.
A kind relative from Yemen,
And a generous uncle from dishonor.
I have donned the armor of youth,
Taking lessons from life’s experiences.
So gather goodness that may reward you,
For all preservation is for one’s own fortune.