Poem: Mourning the Old Abode in As’as
- The poet Imru’ al-Qays states:
Mourning the old abode in As’as,
As if I am calling or speaking to someone mute.
If only the inhabitants of the house were as we remember,
I would find a place to rest there, as well as a gathering.
So do not deny me; I am indeed that one,
For the nights when the tribe settled down, I lingered.
If you see me not resting for a moment,
From the night but only to succumb to sleep,
The agony of my old affliction returns, and it darkens,
I fear that my ailment might come back and overwhelm me.
Oh, how many a burdened soul I have pursued,
And I confronted the horses until they gasped.
And oh, what a day I might depart boldly,
Beloved by the fair-bosomed maidens, graceful and smooth.
They listen to my voice when they hear it,
Just as the gazelle listens to the voice of its mother.
I see they do not love those who possess little wealth,
Nor those in whom gray hair appears and grows.
And I feared never-ending life as I see,
My arms are too weak to rise and dress.
For if this were a soul destined to die as a whole,
It would not be, but rather, a soul that gradually withers.
And I have exchanged vibrant health for grim wounds,
O the blessings that have turned into suffering for me!
Indeed, the ambitious ones aspire from afar,
To wear the vestiges of illness as they will.
Beware, for after voidness, man is blessed,
And after graying, a long life and garments.
Poem: If a Young Man is Content with a Miserable Life
- The poet Antarah ibn Shaddad declares:
If a young man is content with a miserable life,
And behind him is a shadow like a sheath,
And he does not rush upon the lions of fate,
Nor does he pierce the chests of the steeds.
And he does not honor guests when they arrive,
Nor does he draw the swords of brave warriors.
And he does not achieve glory with striking blows,
Nor is he patient in the face of calamities,
Then say to the mourners who weep for him,
“Do cease your lamentations, O mourners!”
And do not lament except for a lion that has perished,
A brave one in the fierce battles.
Let me die in battle, for dying with dignity,
Is better than living in shame.
Indeed, boasting of wealth is not pride,
Nor is the wealthy among the rich truly noble.
The arenas will remember me at all times,
Throughout life until death itself.
That remembrance endures and will not perish,
In days of the past and those to come.
Today, I defend the honor of my people,
And I support the family of Abas against adversaries,
And I reclaim our wealth from them through war,
Which makes the mighty fall.
And I leave every mourner calling
For division and chaos.
Poem: Shall I Gather My Companions?
- The poet Amr ibn Kulthum proclaims:
Shall I gather my companions, a charm of departure,
While I felt not the farewell from you?
I have not seen a farewell like this in Mu’ad,
It resembles its beauty only to the crescent moon.
O send tidings to Banu Jashm ibn Bakr,
And inform them of the majesty of this news,
That the noble hero, the son of Amr,
On the day of the battle has proven himself.
His brigade, shimmering and vast,
When they are targeted, they respond with arrows.
May Allah reward the noble man, Yazeed, with goodness,
And grant him joy and beauty.
With him, Ibn Kulthum ibn Sa’d,
May he increase in goodness and grow in glory,
Among a gathering of Banu Qar’an,
They engage in combat when called upon.
Poem: Learn that the Worst of People is Alive
- The poet Zuhayr ibn Abi Sulma observes:
Learn that the worst of people is living,
Proclaimed in their banner is wealth.
He brags as he runs from afar,
Towards it, like a child carrying his toys.
After a brief glow, he is dazzling,
If he shines one day, she shall rejoice,
As do the harbingers of joy and flocks.
So convey this message if you present to them a messenger,
O Banu Al-Sidad, if the neighbors prove helpful.
For poetry has no equal,
When it comes to water that traders seek.
Poem: We Have Been Tested and the Stars Do Not Fade
- The poet Labid ibn Rabiah states:
We have been tested and the stars do not fade,
And the mountains will remain after us along with the remnants.
I once dwelled in the embrace of a distressed neighbor,
But departed from a neighbor most beneficial.
So do not despair if fate separates us,
For every man, someday, fate will attack him.
I find no new joy coming to me,
Nor am I bothered by anything fate might bring.
People are like homes and their residents,
With time, they either flourish or wither.
And man is but like a blazing meteor,
He turns to ashes after being bright.
Piety is what remains, mere acts of virtue,
And wealth is merely a temporary trust.
Wealth and kin are but a deposit,
And one day, all trusts must be restored.
And they pass away, leaving us,
As the last generations follow.
People are of two kinds: the ones who work,
One destroys what he builds, and another lifts high.
Among them, there is one happy who takes his share,
And another who is unfortunate, content with his plight.
Is it not behind me, should my fate delay,
The need to hold the staff that bends my fingers?
I narrate the stories of the past centuries,
Perhaps I am like the one who often bows.
I have become like a sword with no dullness,
As the time of the swordsmith has passed, and the blade remains sharp.
So do not stray too far; surely death awaits,
For you, it is the destiny of the ascendant.
O reproacher, what do you know, unless you guess,
When the young men depart, who among them returns?
Weep over the passing youth that has gone,
Alas, for those youthful companions,
Do you grieve for what time has wrought on a man?
And which noble man has not faced calamities?
By your life, you do not know the blows of the world,
Nor do the birds lament what Allah has wrought.
Ask them if you doubt me, when do young men
Taste death, and when do rains fall?