Elixir of Life
- Hamad bin Khalifa Abu Shahab states:
I see the poetry flourish only in your presence,
And streams from an abundance of joy flow.
For you, O delight of my eyes, are an oasis,
Surrounded by the garden where the streams gently sway.
When its words take flight and meanings radiate,
Beautiful love reigns supreme over its realm.
It guides the clear signs, quenching
Its mind from the pure and clear source of feelings.
You are to it, O breath of life, its shade,
And its melody in the world of love and beauty.
Its essence dances from your sweet fragrance,
And without you, it wouldn’t have tasted of grace or poured its perfumes.
And without you, no song would have been sung by the evening lark,
Nor would its birds have fluttered through the skies.
Without you, neither time would have tasted sweet nor bitter,
In glory or in the sway of the day and night.
Your love is the elixir of life and its spirit,
A refuge for a heart that has found no protector.
In you alone do I seek fulfillment,
And my heart finds no other but you to stir its desire.
Whatever poetry I utter, its verses belong to you,
And whatever prose I speak is inspired by you.
Poetry insists on existing through you, O ultimate wish,
Illuminating the beauty within its lines.
The Heart’s Obsession with Asma
The elder Maraqash states:
The heart of the persistent lover battles against its longing,
In passion for Asma, whom it cannot conquer.
It wanders unyieldingly, never tiring of her name,
Such is the nature of love, its journey and its consequences.
Can a man fall for Asma, who’s distant,
While whispers from envious watchers cause him to turn away?
Asma is the very essence of my soul; whether you know it or not,
She is the talk of my heart and its concealed thoughts.
When her name reaches me, it feels as if
My heart is quaking, like a heavy wave of fate.
Hei Fa Kills Her Lovers
Son of the Watches remarks:
Hei Fa kills her lovers
With the spear of her elegance and the sword of her beauty.
She steadily aims an arrow of lethargy from her lashes,
And in her cheeks blooms a blush of modesty.
When she graces us with her morning blush,
It sways hearts beneath the dome of poetry.
I confide to her my woes of love,
And she openly scolds those who speak too loud.
We are as once was said,
Showing her the stars while she shows me the moon.
And two glowing arrows of attachment,
Both blind the heart and eye alike.
Whether she launches her arrows or gazes deep,
When war spreads, it rains arrows.
And I remain on the banks of a flowing river,
While the clouds hover above the skilful dawn.
It covers each of us in our tents,
Showing proof of love and memory.
For in its beauty, longing is permissible,
While desire remains hidden.
Her Beauty is Ever-Renewed
- Ibn Sana al-Malik declares:
Her beauty is renewed every hour,
Thus my passion cannot be confined.
My love for her is like her beauty—it never ends,
And my longing, like her absence, remains unquenched.
However, fantasies keep coming, consumed by my long-awaiting shyness,
The long-delayed dreams now dwell in my eyes.
Budding roses are not more precious than her charm,
Each day from her grace emerges a new volume of desire.
She bestows charms upon both parties, above the crescent moon,
And her eyelids tell the tale of enchantment, overflowing.
With dark kohl blending perfectly in her eyes,
We imbibe her sweet essence, intoxicating our hearts.
She holds the power to slay and revive,
With her tenderness, she binds and frees.
Should she show us her face in our rendezvous,
She would also reveal the branches of her twilight.
She has enchanted me with wandering daisies,
And has captivated me with wondrous jasmines.
She wanted to kill me with her charms, unaware
Of my unwavering fight against my own desire.
He who sees her becomes enchanted; yet,
Her generosity in sharing is what truly strengthens it.
A monarch whose bounty draws closer to us,
As his grace also extends to those needing shelter.
The guiding light for travelers in dark nights
Is the star of the faith brought by Muhammad.
God has adorned him with (the light of) faith, but,
In his victorious cause, he stands unwavering.
Fighting for faith with determination, his remembrance
Is celebrated and honored through time.
He stands firmer than one draped in armor,
And sharper than the finest blade.
His heart is strong, and his spirit unwavering,
Exalted, proud, and steadfast.
He celebrates an era of festivity, sending congratulations,
As thousands more mark their celebration.
With him, we share gifts of kindness and lavishness,
And he receives from us everlasting praise and admiration.
The Lovesick Qais and Lubna
Qais bin Dhurayh notes:
O Qais! From love for Lubna springs a heavy ailment;
This love is indeed a formidable disease.
And when days of ailment return to me,
My eyes utter, “I don’t see what I long for.”
Would that Lubna could return to me, then I would settle,
Knowing she will not come among those who do.
Pity on Qais! He has borne the burden of yearning,
His heart is heavy with this affliction.
Eyes of the Deer, How Sweet is Your Magic
- Ibn al-Sahati mentions:
O eyes of the deer, how sweet is your magic to my soul,
No place in my heart remains for stoicism.
Gently with a heart mesmerized beyond healing,
And softly with this pained lid, sleepless through the night.
Pause, O mother of the charm, please grace me,
For this longing is not a simple traveler’s delay.
Among the caravan, once lullabies resonate with lovers,
But these are mere dreams, yet unfulfilled.
White doves occupy the gardens of dark-hued cheeks,
And the sweet lashes have yet to be adorned with kohl.
Perhaps tomorrow will fulfill what was missed today,
Let fate intervene, and tomorrow sunrise arrives.
I’ve been tormented by longing for this lean, graceful figure,
With a slim waist, mocking even my own strength.
Does the hand of love collect the ripe fruits of desire,
From the bough of love that has blossomed not yet?
I succumbed to the power of love after a time of pride,
Not anticipating any humiliation in my past behavior.
They claim reconciliation lies between us,
Yet, why does the sword of her side-glances not relent?
Examine a bright forehead under a slight veil,
Where the dawn appears against a black night.
Among her glances do I stir a pulse between light and dark,
And because of her, I stumble between my meaning.
I poured cups of reproach into his hands,
As he awakened from his intoxication and momentary craze.
Further on, does the branch of a green bough bless him,
While my desires fully match both heart and hand.
With a skinny waist similar to that of my patience,
Whenever you please, tighten or loosen it.
Relate My Tale, for It is Sweet
Amara the Yemeni proclaims:
Relate my tale, for it is sweet,
And its participants are pure and deserving.
I turned and saw a garden,
With a flowing stream and delightful welcome.
Yet I couldn’t ascertain,
What initially attracted me to her grace.
Among the green branches do lovers embrace,
Within which lovers share kisses and sincere intentions.
A breath emerged from the morning breeze,
Soft and gentle, caressing like a sigh.
It stirred life after a tame stillness,
As it danced with the breeze, warm and sweet.
Upon realizing it subtly turned and swayed,
You’d suspect that even the breeze plays a role in this affair.
What joy comes from a graceful girl’s movement,
So delicately balanced and in her love, so fruitful.
She has always opened doors to union,
From which, towards satisfaction, we find our way.
In captivity, I dwell, yet in her company,
Both of us are bound yet remain free.
Whenever I propose to entice her for a moment,
It’s the command of love; she shall readily agree.
My seduction lies in the situation, not in
The idle words of lovers whose words are hollow.
Not unresponsive nor lofty, only
In love’s climb do I find my soul engaging.
She is a Gazelle, But For Her Jewelry and Bracelets
Abdurrahman Al-Suwaidi states:
She is the gazelle were it not for her ornaments and jewelry,
Or a branch were it not for her delicate robes.
An allure stirred by the breeze of her charm and the softness of her nature,
Yet retains an edge in her grace as she sways about.
In the foliage of fresh greenery, she steps light,
And there, the birds long for her presence.
The moon and yonder spear have attempted to match her beauty,
But she remains truly unmatched within her realm.
O full moon, bow low; don’t compete,
O branch, bend down, for you stand far behind.
As the folds drift whilst entwined, they curl above her,
Revealing lengths of her amber-tipped limbs.
With each breeze, the fresh dye detaches,
From the light, they reflect the sun’s gold hue.
Far-reaching is the ear of the pearl in its sacred glow,
Her eyes are like encompassing gems in a treasure trove.
Unveiled, each glance she casts is profound,
Her magic dwells amidst unwritten tales of enchantment.
In her presence, my heart remains captive,
As my being succumbs to the depths of desire.
Were it not for the sorrow of daylight and dusk,
I would remain a songbird above the trees.
And my sorrow becomes intertwined with dawn,
While I recall leisurely evenings filled with sweet fables.
But my grief finds language in absence,
And by her share, weariness confines my resolve.
Beloved, when shadows stretch out from her face,
They seem to raise the sun’s glory and paint the moon’s light.
Similarly, my eyes melt with every gleam from her presence,
As they harbor flames of longing within the silence.
In her sweetness, all rivers of longing flow,
Yet concealed by night is the remembrance of her silhouette.
In hiding behind my illusions, I confess my affection,
Yet, no thought shall pen down my deepest desires.
Heed my devotion, I decree
That nothing shall rival her allure in my realm.
Desires fierce, yet troubles oh so tender,
Transcend the tumult behind every nocturnal encounter.
My heart remains a vessel unbroken,
Finding solace quenching its thirst in whispered dreams.