The Most Beautiful Pre-Islamic Love Poetry

Romantic Poetry

Romantic poetry has been celebrated since ancient times. During the pre-Islamic period (Jahiliyyah), almost every poem included elements of romanticism, even if the main purpose of the poem did not primarily refer to it. The central theme of these poems often revolved around the description of a woman’s beauty, both in her face and physique. There are two main types of romantic poetry: idealized love poetry and overt love poetry. In this article, we will explore some verses and romantic expressions from the pre-Islamic era.

In the Neighborhood, Her Dress is White

Al-A’sha ibn ‘Abdah ibn Nashirah ibn Qais, a first-class poet from the pre-Islamic era, passed away in 603 CE. Here is one of his romantic poems:

In the neighborhood, her dress is white,

When the youth awaken, the beauty is bright.

And her eyes, as if they were glasses,

Reflecting the essence of their allure, what a sight!

You are not from humankind, but from a celestial being,

Descending from the heavens, so pure and keen.

You have lifted the burdens from their hearts,

With a touch that transcended earthly art.

And it is you whose traces in the enemy

bear witness to both prosperity and misery.

The Veil

From the verses of Al-Nabighah Al-Dhubyani, when asked by Al-Nu’man to describe his wife, he expressed:

When the veil fell, and she did not intend its fall,

I reached for it, protecting her with my hand’s call.

With fingers dyed in colors that gleam,

As if they were branches in a beautiful dream.

Her gaze towards you was filled with a need unfulfilled,

Like a sickly one yearning for the essence distilled.

She stood, much like the sun rising high above,

Or a pearl hidden in its shell, glowing with love.

So bright, any who sees her can’t help but fall,

Or a figure of marble, elegant and enthralled.

If she were presented to a devoted monk,

He’d surrender for her charm, spellbound and drunk.

For her beauty, a version of wisdom, even in jest,

Turns folly to guidance, revealing the best.

The Eyes of the Virgins Beneath the Veils

Antarah ibn Shaddad, a well-known pre-Islamic poet, often expressed his pure love for his cousin, Abla. Here are some verses dedicated to her:

The eyes of the virgins beneath the veils,

Sharper than the white of the clear details.

When unveiled, the brave feels shame and despair,

As her eyes fill with the tears they bear.

May God grant my uncle a sip from death’s cup,

And may his hands be paralyzed when his fingers are up.

Like one of my kind led to certain fate,

As I dangled my hopes by the threads of my state.

Truly, Abla bid me farewell one day,

A reassuring goodbye that I’ve gone astray.

She mourned and lamented, “How can you rise after me?”

If you disappear from us into the vast sea.

Indeed, I have sought no comfort as times do shift,

Nor has desire altered my love’s pure gift.

Trust in my affection; embrace your bliss,

And live amidst joy without worry or hiss.

I said to her, “Abla, I’m off on a quest,

Even if the boundaries are set to the test.”

We were created for this love long ago,

So let no refutation hinder our flow.

Oh, emblem of happiness; am I returning?

My eyes will see your blooming like a serpent’s yearning.

Watch how my glance dances through the landscapes,

As we graze the banks of the lush drapes.

In the greens of the valley and the lush shades,

We’ll frolic in the blessings of these glades.

So, breezes of the pine, tell Abla my tale,

Where should I find her in every trail?

And oh, thunderclouds, convey my greetings as I roam,

To all the hiding places and common home.

If I die, let the tree’s spirits go weep,

Between birds that sing as they find their keep.

And weep over the one who perished in vain,

Separated from their loved ones, burdened with pain.

Oh, steed, weep for the knight who faced

The bodies of fate in a cloud of haste.

Yet, I lack tears if death draws near,

But desire wells up, and my heart stays clear.

It’s neither boastful to speak of my woe,

For my name lingers in the songs, a show.

By love, do not blame me for my plight,

For blame is useless in this endless fight.

How can I bear the absence of the one I adore,

When the fire of love blazes forevermore?

Do You Recognize the Abandoned Home?

Tarfa ibn al-Abd, a pre-Islamic Arab poet, born in 543 CE and passed in 569 CE, contributed this romantic poem:

Do you recognize the outline of the home?

Like the ribs of the young one, above all it shone.

In Thalit or Najran, where our hopes collide,

In the depths of stories, the questions reside.

These districts where Selma lures you with desire,

And where her bonds tie you closer with fire.

She gazes like a gazelle taken from the wild,

Her look holds me fast, gentle yet riled.

We sang, uncaring of time’s bittersweet tension,

Both wrapped in the innocence of love’s mention.

Your silhouette, drifting between dreams and light,

Is the darkness of the night, giving way to alight.

Yet wide are the distances between us two,

As the wandering thoughts of longing grow anew.

Oh how softly does Selma’s image linger close,

But beware of the enmity that interpose.

For the winds whisper warnings, reminders amiss,

Can you be silent amidst love’s sweet abyss?

All I have left is the memories of the past,

As love’s spark ignites, yearning to last.

The Cool Breeze of Hijaz at Dawn

From the poetic verses of Antarah ibn Shaddad, in which he expresses his love:

The cool breeze of Hijaz at dawn,

When its fragrant air greets me with the yawn.

Is more delightful than treasures I possess,

Jewels and gold, yet nothing can impress.

Not even Kisra’s domain; I would not desire,

When your beloved’s face hides from my fire.

May this rain bless the tents we’ve erected,

With the joy of companionship so well-connected.

With every gleam of the moon in her grace,

She cloaks the darkness, illuminating the place.

White and black, protecting her encampment with charm,

A lion in the meadow, tender yet warm.

My heart taken by one whose eyes tell a tale,

As their laughter dances, set to regale.

With each flash of her smile, like a goblet that sings,

Transforming the night with the joy that it brings.

If only Abla knew the fire in my core,

As it throws flames of desire with each thought and more.

For as the realm sways from pleasure to battle,

All I fight for remains tied to love’s saddle.

With the darkness ahead, while love’s bright, I continue,

In a war with the fates that I cannot undo.

Between Al-Aqiq and Burqa Thahmoud

Antarah ibn Shaddad, in another romantic poem, expresses:

Between Al-Aqiq and Burqa Thahmoud,

There lies a mark of Abla’s abode.

Oh, theater of shades in the valley of joy,

Is there someone with sorrow to share and enjoy?

In the tales of old, there await the truths,

That tear at my skin as my feelings unloose.

For each enchanting one turned to gaze with her grace,

I cannot but recall, lost in love’s embrace.

Abla, how deeply does your absence affect?

And how can I forget, even for self-protection?

How can I find comfort in songs of peace,

When all I hear is the call of love’s lease?

Indeed, I held back tears, not from want,

But on the farewell day, memories do haunt.

How many of us can relate to this lesson,

Of the pain borne by separation’s confession?

When I see you, my heart beats in wonder,

Do you feel the same? Or is it lost in the thunder?

Let the paths cross on the morrow’s horizon,

As my heart pleads for the love that’s now risen.

Yet the weight of longing left me unnerved,

With no more sadness, just what I’ve preserved.

Across the fields, over the hills, I made strides,

And in the throng of warriors, my heart rides.

In dust clouds like oceans, a battle thus forms,

As I walk where the laughter of love warmly warms.

So behold the tribe of Abs stand to defend,

And as the steeds race, may the rivalry mend.

Where bravery shines through, like spears kissed by light,

And the battle cries raise, echoing through the night.

With the familiar face lost under the ground,

What remains of the glory and the beauty profound?

The sky darkens, yet the stars twinkle bright,

And the horizon, a canvas, sparkles with light.

I delved beneath the cloud of sound and strife,

With a spear meant to protect this precious life.

For in the face of adversity, rage was emitted,

As my presence stood firm against cruelty unbidden.

In the dawn’s light, the world witnessed its power,

As the knights’ hearts soared like a flower.

So lean on me, my kin, as we face this test,

For the love of Abla will always be blessed.

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