Your Eyes and the Magic Within Them
By the poet Elia Abu Madi:
Your eyes, and the magic they hold
Have turned me into a captivating bard.
You have taught me love, and I, in turn,
Have witnessed the moonrise, the branches, and the birds.
If you disappear from my sight and the night grows wild,
I will inquire about you from the radiant moon,
And I wander through gardens at dawn,
To confide in the nightingale, the poet.
And I will pluck the rose from its bud,
For within it carries a soothing fragrance,
That reminds the heart of its sweet aroma.
Do you remember the former lover who reminisced?
How many a peaceful soul found rest in its nest?
You stirred him from his slumber at dawn,
And he became lost and bewildered like me.
When he saw me wandering in the meadows,
He began to share with me his woes, and I with him.
The pangs of yearning, the separation, and the longings,
Like a star to whom I revealed my sighs,
And he spent the night like me, lost and awake.
I have shunned sleep from my eyelids,
And I did not care for those who accuse or admonish.
Oh, how I wish I were a tempestuous symbol,
So we may proclaim the proverbial saying.
Love, the Essence of Your Being
By the poet Khalil Mataran:
Love is the essence that you embody,
And beauty is the term which you define.
Companionship is a covenant you nurture,
And speech is a garden where you sing.
Have mercy on a heart that is now wearied,
And yet under your gaze, it finds tranquility.
With your vision, our wishes were fulfilled,
A dream we relished through your sight.
Oh, the sweetness of my eyes, when it gazed upon you,
Oh, the joy of my heart, when it confides in you.
A Glimpse of Love
By the poet Abdul Rahman Al-Ashmawi:
Love is but a spark within my soul,
With its light shining brightly in the heart.
Were it not for my loyalty to it, its glow would fade,
And the heart’s losses would be its demise.
It is a spark that dispels darkness when it rises,
Belonging to the lover, safeguarded by grace.
But when a lover’s intentions sour,
It becomes a blaze within the heart, igniting flames.
Love is nothing but a brilliant flash,
Adorned with our generosity and fidelity.
The Tender Nature of Your Spirit
By Ibrahim Nagy:
Your gentle nature is like a breeze,
From the shores of the sea, I express my admiration.
I send to you the beauty of my expression,
And I encapsulate my love in this phrase:
I love you twofold: as a daughter,
And love encompasses all that is tender within you.
I Love You, I Love You, and the Rest Will Follow
By Nizar Qabbani:
Your voice is a Persian carpet,
And your eyes are Damascus sparrows,
Fluttering between the walls, my heart travels like a dove,
Gliding over the waters of your hands,
Taking a siesta in the shade of the willows.
And indeed, I love you,
But I fear becoming entangled in your love,
I am afraid of merging into you,
For experiences have taught me to avoid the passion of women,
And the waves of the sea.
I do not debate your love; it is my day,
Nor do I dispute the sun of the day;
I do not argue about your love,
For it decides on which day it will come and go,
And it determines the time and form of our conversations.
Allow me to pour you tea; you are a mythical beauty this morning,
Your voice is a delightful engraving on a Moroccan dress,
Your necklace dances like a child beneath the mirrors,
And drinks from the vase’s lip.
Allow me to pour you tea; did I say I love you?
Did I express how happy I am that you have come?
Your presence is a joy like that of poetry,
And the arrival of boats, the distant memories.
As Qabbani also says:
I love you until my own fading,
With eyes as wide as the sky,
Until I fade away, vein by vein,
In the depths of chestnut tangles,
Until I feel that you are part of me,
Some of my assumptions, some of my blood.
I love you in a trance that never awakens,
I am a thirst that cannot be quenched,
I am a vintage in the folds of a shirt,
I have known through its encounters my pride.
I am a wanderer in your eyes; you are everything,
The spring of springs, the essence of giving.
I love you; do not ask what pleads,
Burned by the suns I call forth.
When I love you, my soul adores you,
We become the anthem and the reverberation of the song.
Love Teaches Me Not to Love
By Mahmoud Darwish:
Love teaches me not to love,
Nor to open the window to the path;
Can you emerge from the call of the basil,
And divide me into two, you and what remains of the song?
Love, that love in every love,
I see love as death approaching death.
A breeze restores horses to their mother, the wind,
Between clouds and valleys.
Cannot you escape from the buzz of my blood,
To quiet this hunger,
And withdraw the bees from the rose’s deadly petals?
Love is the love that asks me,
How did the wine return to its mother and burn?
And how sweet is love when it torments,
When it shatters the delicate song?
Love teaches me not to love and leaves me in the wind of the leaves.
The Eternal Wait
By Sid Qutb:
I await you without concern,
The beauty’s love commands the aesthetics;
Go away then, or come near me,
I am satisfied in every circumstance.
I am content with dreams that
Bestow upon you the adornments of grandeur.
You are not to blame; I am,
For I have sprinkled the wings of grace.
What is beauty, when it manifests,
But reverence in solemn devotion?
I am awaiting you at dawn,
At sunset and in the moments of twilight;
I am waiting for you when the dawn emerges,
Like a pearl shining at sunrise;
I am waiting for you when I hear a whisper,
Like a fleeting vision, in the air.
And if you draw near, my soul yearns for your closeness,
And the intertwining of our spirits as we reach perfection.
That is the secret of my gaze toward you,
Forever, to what I cannot help.
Yes, My Heart Opened with the Breath of Youth
By Ibn Al-Farid:
Indeed, with youth, my heart is young for my beloved;
What a fragrant breeze it is when it blows,
It carries with it the sweet morning to my heart,
Stories of neighbors fill my ear with delight.
With a gentle cloak, it wraps itself within the garden,
Healing me of this affliction that holds me tight.
It carries memories of the Hijaz’s herbs,
But not intoxicated like my friends’ circling cups.
It reminds me of the past because it is a recent bond
From the roots of affection I still hold dear.
Oh, rebuking the fiery returning leaves, leaving the gardens,
You are the good fortune; if you show clarity and reveal,
And I wandered in the expanses of the wilderness and longing,
And turned away from the hills of rejection.
Forlorn to capture a place in the garden,
Avoiding the disturbance of love’s distress.
I have spotted corners where I set my greetings,
For there, among those tents, I hold close to my heart,
Veiled between the arrowheads and the glimmers.
To her, my heart shifts when her lids flutter,
A privileged one, adorned in her veil,
Increases my longing as it allows my wishes.
And that is a light cost of my aspirations in love.
Yet love does not deceive when my blood spills,
By the sacred flame within love’s decree: it fulfills.
When it promises, it swiftly keeps to its command,
And when it swears, it does not cure the illness it breeds.
When it seems aloof, I yield in shyness and awe,
And when it is distant, I shiver but do not recoil.
If the shadow of her image does not visit my resting place,
I cease to exist and cannot see her with my own eyes,
A mere imagination feels as real as her appearance,
In the heat of my passion, I remember Qais in his longing,
And her joy, for both are bound together;
I have not seen a lover like me afire with yearning,
Nor a beloved like her, filled with beauty.
She is the full moon; her descriptions are celestial,
It uplifted my ambition towards the heavens; when I resolved,
Her dwelling is an embrace my heart finds comforting,
And my heart and eyelids settled; in sweetness they glisten,
For longing is but a trickle from my weeping eyes,
And lightning strikes from the spark of my sighing.
If My Heart Would Not Be Concealed
By Amro Bin Qama’a:
My heart is not concealed nor tide-bound,
It has captivated me; it did not appreciate reunion.
Do you see the caravan move quickly≤
Like the horsemen stealing away from their valleys?
They arrived from the irrigation channel at noon,
Then departed for the place that beckoned.
At dawn, they lingered on the foal’s soft ground,
Striving to lift the girth of the camels.
And the call of the rooster accompanied them,
Under the haze of their own curtains.
I remained captivated, turning pale,
If today were abnormal, cannot believe the distress you bring.
Oh daughter of goodness! We remain poised—
At the mercy of time, after the nights.
The times are cruel, and were they to stand by me in the distant past,
They would have thwarted efforts like mine.
If arrows shot at me, it would be noticeable;
What amazing wonder for what I witnessed,
But ah! Amazing how time runs its course,
I look for a way that sees me in the depths of the sea,
And finds its way back across the lofty mountains;
And the unique one with radiant sunshine,
Seeks safety among the tranquil sands.
And stands to strike down the brave in the fair,
Caught between multiple garments and peering veils.
Will Those Nights Return as Promised?
By Abu Al-Hassan Al-Jurjani:
Will those nights return as they were,
To reunion or will my return be improbable?
And the company of those I cherished, for I mourned their loss;
I dress in sorrow like one adorned in a shroud.
When I glimpsed a gleam from the direction of Baghdad,
I wake from slumber; my tranquility flies away.
And when the omens of the skies retreat,
They imply the truth that clouds weep tears.
Let all accumulations of showers cultivate my side in Baghdad,
Mimicking the tears of a heart in love.
There are gatherings of gazelles amongst those who have conspired,
Guided by moistened hopes and dreams.
With its allure, the soul finds peace and contentment,
As the heart fills with warmth and affection.
Every heart with curriculum flows with memories,
As the green blossoms of spring and its fragrances fill their chambers.
Every moment of living is sprung from a youthful past,
With every season presenting itself as new and inviting.
But I remain obedient to the affairs of chance,
Handing over my will to their mandates.
When I arrive at the palace of delight,
I find it crowded with burdens of despair.
In this abode, those who ache with longing find solace,
And I am spared from the posture of troubling situations,
It offers a scene for the eyes from what they adore,
And a refreshing breeze for a troubled heart.
Every heart perceives what brings comfort,
When its trees bloom and the fields yield growth,
As if the murmurs of water have met their luscious banks,
Sounding as thunder embracing the rain.
When the breezes release their torrents upon me,
They unfold in majestic costumes accented by shimmering armor;
Famed and most commanding in their illustrious arms,
Formed from the emissions of scented breezes reaching out.
The beauty of our days flourishes in its fragrant ambiance,
Unifying our spirits as if they could acknowledge it.
I Loved Purely, with Pure Love
By Abdul Samad Al-Abdi:
I was loved purely, by pure affection,
For she is the epitome of charm.
Oh, pure one, how can you linger on a lover,
His weeping reveals what he conceals?
Here I am, responding to a call from Abu Qasim,
The essence of etiquette and grace.
The purity you embody clarifies only love’s intention,
Words may fall short in expressing your elegance.
The tongue of desire articulates,
Bearing witness to its truth.
This love has flourished,
And yet it never diminishes.
If you were not in love,
Your heart would not quicken,
And without a mother appeared,
You stumble and do not speak.
Is it a sun that shone upon us,
Or the illuminating moon?