Poem: My Soul to You, O Night Visitor
- The poet Ibn al-Farid expresses in his poem:
My soul is devoted to you, O night visitor,
My solace in solitude when the night calms.
If our parting begins with the dawn,
Never shall there be a morning thereafter.
Poem: I Am Enveloped in Love at Dawn
- The poet Ibn Shaykhan Al-Salmi writes:
I am enveloped in love at the morning’s light,
It’s no surprise that my tears confess and reveal.
Concealing love is bitter for its bearers,
While the lover finds pleasure in being exposed.
What breeze can my heart feel from the gentle morning,
When the zephyrs from Najd bring nothing but relief?
The fire of passion ignites within my core,
It intensified by the morning breeze.
By God, O Najd’s breeze, when will I see you,
For I am lost in those wide plains.
A heart now lost in those corners has wandered,
Oh, sweet days that passed me by.
Who will soothe my spirit’s longing,
As it yearns for tranquility amidst emptiness?
How can I hope for a return, when if it does,
It would snatch my heart towards the shores!
Do our beloveds know that I,
After their absence, am like a wingless bird?
If they would grant me relief from my sorrows,
With a glance, will I be uplifted?
Aloof, I seek guidance in my blame,
While the glimmer of my tears has brightened.
They know not that I have drowned in
Rivers of tears that cannot be restrained.
They reproach me for loving one whose face,
Outshines the night with the dawn’s light.
Poem: Your Morning is Sugar
- The poet Nizar Qabbani presents in his poem:
If a day passes and I forget to say,
Your morning is sugar…
I find myself scribbling like a small child,
Writing strange words on the face of my notebook.
So do not be alarmed by my bewilderment and silence,
Nor assume that anything has changed.
For when I do not utter ‘I love you,’
It means that I love you even more.
If one day you were to visit me in a dress,
Like the greenery of lakes… green… green,
And your hair draped over your shoulders,
Like the sea, like the scattered depths of night… precious… precious… like a dagger’s thrust.
And I inhale the smoke of my thoughts deeply,
Then sip the ink from my pen and revel.
Do not label me as dead to feelings,
Nor consider that my heart has hardened.
In the realm of dreams, I plant your hair,
And wheat, and almonds, and thyme forests…
If you sit long before me,
Like a kingdom of fragrance and marble…
And I close my eyes to your sweetness,
Neglecting the perfume of your attire.
So do not think that I do not see you,
For some things are still perceived in the mind.
In the shadows, your perfume has a voice,
Your eyes’ dimensions grow larger.
I love you beyond love, yet…
Let me see you as I imagine…
Poem: Your Morning
- The poet Sabah Al-Hakeem states:
Your morning is filled with love, honey, and amber.
Your morning is musk, roses, and more.
Your morning brings tidings to all distant souls,
To every stranger
Who has lost his way and faltered.
Your morning is light,
And my heart is sorrowful.
This tough and troubled time,
Your morning is a remedy for sorrow.
It heals the afflicted,
And quenches the parched plains.
Your morning is rain, and you are clarity,
You are the draught and you are the cure.
For every disheartened soul, you nurture hope,
Near you, every ailment fades away.
Your morning is a face in this time,
When it turns away, security disappears.
Your morning is a celebration for the wounded,
When my sorrows hover around me,
I appear like a rose in an expansive field.
And I see you as a refreshing dream,
When the poise of my ailments dissipates.
Your morning is a star that has descended at night,
To dispel the darkness and cast it away,
Bringing light to every gathering.
And the essence of affection embraces my heart,
Your morning is a melody for my sad journey,
And your voice is a lamentation for every groan.
When a word is spoken in this place,
The meadows overflow with the song of love.
The wounds retreat, and time flourishes,
Existence becomes akin to paradise.
Your morning is a pulse, and you are life,
Your morning is a solace for every dawn,
And the light of hopes for the departed evenings.
And a dawn rises over distant horizons,
Where light prevails, and shadows fade.
Your dream awakens my aspirations,
Turning the darkness of nights into brightness.
And the palms sing to the tune of the breeze.
Your morning brings forth fragrances,
Your morning is light for my gloomy path,
And my pure and fresh heart.
Your morning is pure and pristine,
If the meadows fade, they will wither.
Your morning is poetry, and you are the epitome of it,
The wine of songs for the spirit of life.
Your morning, my beloved, is like melodies,
When my heart sings, it pours forth its sufferings.
Your morning is sweet nectar that never alters,
For you are the essence of fragrant perfumes.
So return, that we may renew an old path,
Life has been wasted, so do not delay.
When you come, my soul shall rejoice,
And the nights stay awake for you.
Poem: Morning
- The poet Adel Khamis expresses:
It is as if my evening is the path of the south…
Measuring souls…
Measuring wounds…
And it will not relent to turn lips to desolation…
And alas…
Not once has it slumbered from a fleeting anguish…
Morning of clarity…
Veils underneath my eyelids are but mirages…
And no passerby to close the door against the winds…
Upon her grave…
How will they long for her, a clamor…
Remains of a morning…
And no kohl has graced her eye for two years…
Nor has (Hinna) awaited on a limb…
Morning of beauty…
Yawned after you – Mother of wholeness – with the dust of years…
On our turmoil…
And hearts quenched from night’s veins…
No sighs in the dawn’s tunes…
No smiles for the distant sunset…
For the sun is gone…
To bestow her light…
The morning of absence…
Morning of absence…
Whenever the longing is rekindled…
A life emerges…
And the child echoed after her:
Will we remain…
Merely as conjecture…
– Even if it’s a sin –
That we exist…
To understand our fading dreams…
Congratulations to us for all this death…
And a morning will persist…
– Crowned in white –
It’s the winning one…
Poem: And I Was Amazed Beyond Amazement
I greeted him at night, and he replied to me,
What is this talk, thinking it was jest;
And I grew more astonished than before,
And realized I had come with wings.
Beware, O Abu Hassan, your beauty amazed me,
To the point where I mistook evening for dawn.
Do not be surprised, for if your face appeared,
In darkness, I would liken it to a lamp.
You, who bewildered me with your charm,
Left the morning of the world disfigured.
How many have you enchanted, yet sought no bewitched,
How many have you slain, yet bore no weapon.