Poetic Verses by Al-Mutanabbi on Reproach
Al-Mutanabbi is renowned for his poignant verses of reproach, many of which are woven into his poems. Below are some notable examples from his works:
Ah, the Heart in Pain for the One Whose Heart is Harsh
In his poem “Ah, the Heart in Pain,” he expresses:
Ah, my heart, how it aches for the one whose heart is harsh,
And for whom my body and state suffer in illness.
Why do I conceal a love that has pierced my being
While nations claim to love the Sword of State?
If love connects us through beauty,
Would that we could share love in equal measure.
I have visited him with swords from Hind sheathed
And gazed upon him as the swords shed blood.
He was the most beautiful of God’s creations,
And the finest part of beauty is virtue.
Victory over an enemy I desired is accompanied
By sorrow entwined with blessings.
Fierce fear has taken your place,
And reverence is yours which cannot be fabricated.
You have obliged yourself to impose a burden that does not befit you,
That there be no earth or sign to conceal them.
Whenever you sought an army and they turned to flee,
Your aspiration led them to those illustrious paths.
In every battle, their defeat is upon you,
And no shame befalls you if they are vanquished.
Do you not see sweet victories other than victory,
Where the white of India greeted cooperation?
O you just among men, except in my dealings,
You are the dispute, and you are both the judge and the accused.
I plead for your sincere glances
To not mistake fatness for muscle.
And what benefits a worldly brother from his gaze
If both light and darkness are equal before him?
Welcome Back, O Holiday
In the poem on the holiday, he states:
O holiday, in what state have you returned?
Is it due to the past, or a new matter within you?
As for my beloved, the desert lies between us,
Would that there were a hand to ease this separation.
If it weren’t for aspirations, I would not traverse where I wander,
With a grassy path and without a barren thorn.
And it was sweeter than the sword to share a bed,
Like the echoes enchanting maidens.
Time has left nothing in my heart or liver,
But a gaze that desires and none to give.
O cupbearer, are you serving wine in your glass,
Or are there sorrows in your cups and pain?
Am I but stone, why do you not move me
With this wine and these songs?
If I seek a clear-colored wine,
I find it and my beloved is lost.
What have I experienced in life that is most remarkable?
For I am envied for weeping over what I grieve.
By evening, I wander enriched, possessing but a hand,
I am rich though my wealth is mere promises.
I have settled among those who are known for lying,
Far from hospitality and with limited travels.
The generosity of men can be found in their hands, and their generosity also
Resides in their tongues, but neither is present.
Death does not seize a single soul among them,
Except that they hold a piece of its stench in their hands.
From every loose tie of the belly breaks away,
Neither in stalls nor in women is it counted.
Whenever a wicked servant betrays his master,
Or deceives him, he finds a welcome in Egypt.
Thus the eunuch becomes the leader of the runaway here,
While the free man is enslaved; the slave becomes a deity.
You Suffice as Malady
In the poem “You Suffice as Malady,” he reflects:
You are enough disease for me to see death as healing,
And death’s assurance does not come as a wish.
You wished for it when you hoped to see
A friend unwell, or a foe feigning friendship.
If you are content to live in humiliation,
Then do not prepare for the Yemeni blade.
Do not extend the lances for an ambush,
Nor seek to use the known steeds.
What benefit does it bring the lions to be timid1