The Beauty of Poetry
Among the most beautiful poetic verses are the following:
The Poem “Stop, Weep for the Memories of a Beloved and a Home”
In this notable poem, “Stop, weep for the memories of a beloved and a home,” the poet Imru al-Qais expresses deep longing:
Stop, weep for the memories of a beloved and a home
By the fallen stones between the entryway and Hoomal
On the day I found my steed lame, I lamented
O the wonder of its painful turns!
Thus, the maidens continued to weep for their tender flesh
And their pallor resembled finely woven silk
When I entered the chamber of Anyza
She exclaimed ‘Woe unto you! You are a great tormentor!’
She uttered, as the evening madly inclined with us
‘You have injured my steed, so come down’
I replied: ‘Just walk, loosen the reins’
‘And do not distance me from your enchanting embrace’
For you resemble a heavy-laden traveler who knows
When one weeps, she turns to him.
Straining my hand, she changed her direction
And on that day, atop a dune, she starved
And vowed that her oath would never be violated.
O Fatim, a moment of this charming flirtation
And if you have resolved to abandon me, then be gracious.
For Your Eyes, What the Heart Encounters
The renowned Al-Mutanabbi conveys intense emotions in his poem “For your eyes, what the heart encounters”:
For your eyes, what the heart encounters and what it has endured
And for love, there’s what remains and what has vanished
And I was not among those who fall truly in love
But whoever gazes upon your eyelids is enchanted
And between pleasure and resentment, closeness and distance
There is room for the tears that sparkle in the eyes
The sweetest longing is what doubts connecting with its beloved
And in separation, it awaits and fears.
Fueled by the intoxication of youthful pride
I approached it, with lips moist from its sweetness, clear
It covered my mouth, so I kissed her crown
And gazelle-like beauties similar to yours visited me
Yet I did not discern one without adornments
And not everyone who loves maintains their virtue, when they are alone
My chastity pleases love, and the steeds converge.
May God bless the days of youth, what joy lies with them
Acting like an ancient Babylonian
If time wears on joyfully
Yet the fabric still remains unthreaded.
And I have not witnessed looks, like on the day of their departure
Which sent every heart into despair and grief.
They turned eyes like they were inscribed in mercurial ink
As the evening approached us, away from the gaze of tears
And from the pleasure of bidding farewell, with dread of separation
We bid them goodbye, while the gap between us seemed like
The blade of Ibn Abi Hayja in the heart of battalions
Decorated as though woven by the craftsman’s hand.
It was terrifying for the owners of armies.
Choosing the spirits of the brave, selecting
Every armor and breastplate that they bore.
And they stride with every wall and trench
Changing their places between Al-Luqan and Wasit
And they landed between the Euphrates and Jalek
Returning red as though cut with pure blood
Weeping tears like the water of thirsting ones.
Do not let them reach what I have said, for it is
A valiant heart that when speaking of battle, ignites.
Its hits are fierce with the edges of swords
And playful at the tips of delicate speech.
Like the one who asks the rain for a mere drop
As like a critic asking the universe for gentleness
They have clothed their existence with warmth beyond embellishments
And it has flourished in every community, every creed
Until praise reached you from every utterance
Seeing the Roman Emperor’s relief in generosity.
He stood as if he were a benefactor pretending to boast
And he withdrew his proud spears.
To train there in combat, and becoming adept at it
And he wrote to someone from a distant land
With the goal of ending an enemy’s campaign
And their rumors spread atop their scattered steeds
They traveled in a manner that seemed lofty.
And when he came close, he concealed his location
Delayed by the glint of shining steel that sparkled
As he walked on the tapestry, unaware
If he was heading towards the sea or ascending to the moon.
And enemies did not sway your joys from your companions
Similar to yielding within an artfully crafted speech.
Let the Days Do as They Please
Imam Al-Shafi’i eloquently expresses timeless wisdom in his poem “Let the days do as they please”:
Let the days do as they please
And find peace when fate decides
And do not be disheartened by misfortunes of the nights
For no misfortune of this world will last
Be a man, steadfast in facing dangers
And let your traits be generosity and loyalty
And though your flaws may be many among people
If it brings you joy, let them stay covered.
Dress yourself with generosity, for every flaw,
Can be overlooked as they say generosity prevails.
And don’t reveal humiliation to your enemies
For the triumph of enemies is a trial
And do not look for generosity from a stingy person
For there is no water for the thirsty in the fire.
Your sustenance is not diminished by patience
And indeed labor does not increase riches.
Nor does sorrow last, nor joy
Nor poverty upon you, nor comfort.
If you possess a contented heart
You are one in stature with the owner of the world.
And he who meets death at his gate
Will find neither land nor sky protecting him.
Though God’s earth is vast, yet
If fate descends, space becomes confined.
Let the days betray at every moment;
For no medicine will avail against death.
Because Forgiveness Is My Weakness
Mane’ Said Al-Otaiba eloquently articulates his sentiments in the following verses:
Because forgiveness is my weakness
Thus, you continue to enjoy my affection and kindness
And you still wound me day by day
No blade can defend against your wounds.
I heal my own wounds with beautiful patience
Yet the heart does not equate, nor does patience heal.
And I wonder what the secret of this stability is
As I honor my love during my deep affliction.
If only, O my torment, you were merciful
And forgiving my violence!
Do not presume yourself stronger than you are
For I remain patient against the odds.
I am the force of storms, so understand
Why I protect you from the desire for violence.
Because you cannot withstand
If my tenderness, my affection disappear.
I love you still despite the mistakes
And my tears bear witness to my love’s confession.
I have wept long in silence, awaiting
For you are my ultimate victory and my happiness.
I love you, despite the despair that never ends
Before my mistakes and the look of my eyes.
And the land of my heart is thirsting for rain
And you are but a fleeting summer cloud
Stingy towards me, generous to those
Who contradict you with falsehoods and deception.
A beloved who, despite my blood, remains
Is stained on your hands, O wound upon my hands.
No matter what, I will not scream in protest
Nor will I tell your blade: ‘That’s enough!’
My loyalty remains blind
And deaf to clear accusations of faithfulness.
If you desire to kill me, then face to face
And beware of drawing your sword from behind my back.
For when I die, my death will reveal
All that you concealed or carefully hid.
And when my blood tells the tale
How will you deny my truth and deny?
I loved you in death and resurrection, so do you
Understand my wealth, my state, and my circumstance?
I Remember Layla and the Days of Yore
The poet Qais ibn Al-Mulawwah reminisces:
I remembered Layla and the bygone days
When we enjoyed life without worry of leaving.
And the day seemed like a shadow of a spear, where it fell short
Next to Layla, and how I was left in distraction, not heedful
In Al-Thamdain, Layla’s fire flickered, and my companions
With her from the arid land, guiding the lost paths.
He said, “Did you glimpse a star?”
“A speck amidst the darkness of night,” I replied.
I said to him, “Nay, it is Layla’s flame that has ignited in me.”
How I wished the mounts had not cut through the soil
And that the soil might escort the horses for a while
O night, how many urgent matters have I had!
When I come to you at night, I do not know what they are.
O my companions, if you do not weep, I will seek
A friend since when my tears flowed, he cried for me
For each time the fair youth emerges, I am captivated by desire
And my poetry only composes as therapy.
And perhaps God reunites two who were apart
When each believes they will never meet again.
Blessed are those who say time will heal us
For I am never empowered by love’s endeavors.
O my companions, truly, I have what remains to me
From fate concerning Layla, nor what was given to me.
Her dreams are fulfilled by others, while I am tormented
So grant me something other than Layla’s burdens.
Have you informed me that Taimah is a resting place
For Layla when summer delivers its gentle breezes?
And these summer months have passed us by,
So what is it about the distant land that despises Layla?
O my Lord, equal my desire between me and her
So it may be a balance neither for you nor against me.
The star that guides remains hidden to my sight
And the dawn only stirred my memory of her.
I traveled from Damascus without noticing
Neither the beautiful star of the people nor its light.
And I cannot plead for anyone I name
Among the people except tears that veer sideways.
And when the southern wind breathed towards her land
It would lead me to lean with the gentle wind.
So if you prevent Layla, guarding against her lands
Then do not shield the poems from their paths.
I bear witness before God that truly I love her
This holds value in my heart, and what does she hold for me?
God has decreed what is just for her, and for others paired my passion
With earnestness and longing that remains only for me.
And yet the longing that you hold, O Umm Malik
Has turned my spirit grey and hollowed my heart’s center.
Count the days neatly as one follows another,
For I have lived ages without numbering the days.
Please allow me to breach the homes in search for a way
To speak of you silently in the night.
Once I prayed, I turned toward you
And my face, despite the one praying, was behind me.
And no company shall take part except love.
And the pain has dimmed the doctor’s remedies.
I cherish all names resembling hers
Or similar, or anything that connects me to her.
O my companions, “Layla” is this the wish or the hope
So tell me who brings her, or so will we meet?
Indeed I have wept, O turtledove of Al-Aqiq,
And tearful-eyed, I weep for the eyes that shed tears.
My friends, what do I expect from life after
I see my need swayed beyond purchase?
And even Layla cannot deceive, alleging I have forgotten
And not conceal my plight before the people’s eyes.
I have not found anyone like us beside our plight
Save for those, it seems, who crave for reunion.
We were friends, yet no hope for encounter awaits us, nor paths
Could bind us, only anticipating their embrace.
And I feel too shy to present my wishes
In your presence or even extend inclination towards you.
People say I’m crazy, O Umm Malik,
And yet I was lost in your dream.
Oh how the endless inevitable death lies ahead,
Yet facing the inevitable, it is ever haunting.
As long as my eyes gaze upon yours, I shall be well
Though your presence lifts off the burden from my heart.
For it is you who, if you wish, would make my life wretched,
And it is you, whom only you can bring joy.
And you are the one who, no companion nor foe
Sees the beauty that remains of me, except that it reminisces.
He who confesses his love for Layla survives
Though I am of despair, I waste away because of her.
O my friends, if they shy from allowing Layla, make ready
The shroud and the grave, and give my farewell.