The Heart of Longing Returns with Your Arrival
As stated by Ibn Sanâ’ al-Malik:
The heart of longing returns as you come back,
And the promise was fulfilled, joy is now at his side.
And it watered him with the water of life, yet not a blush appeared
On his face, nor did his branches turn green.
Congratulations to him on his joy, and it’s no wonder,
For whoever shows delight brings it back.
Congratulations to him from creation, when
He received one who governs and leads.
Whoever the times wish to please him,
Nothing in existence would dishearten him.
Who cradles the people in peace and does not hold
The necklace of existence except for its essence.
Those whom the days approached with apologies,
He received their forgiveness, and bitterness disappeared.
From kings who acknowledged him and said,
He is our sovereign, and we are his subjects.
Indeed, the grace of God has renewed for the most
Noble what the ancestors had built long ago.
And the kingship bestowed upon him that which was challenged,
And God willed to prevent its retreat.
He repelled from his kingdom those who would check it, for God
Protected him, not from it, rather through it.
Indeed, you can see a city that preserves its ancient heritage,
Its relics truly exist.
His kingship from his father has confirmed,
Upon them are his bonds and oaths.
Did Yearning Emerge When His Tears Overflowed?
As mentioned by Ibn ‘Aneen:
Did longing emerge when a yearning heart shed tears?
Surrounded by many scolding tones, they hover around him.
And the affection and loyalty remain in people,
So why am I blamed for holding our promises?
Indeed, I am a weak-hearted one, whenever a glimmer
From the west appears, my eyes can’t cease to shed tears.
And when news arrives from sham, it causes
The heart to tremble.
I avoid asking about you from that heart, fearing,
As everyone approaches him, seeking his company.
So how do I manage my nights and their shifting,
When opposing my desires always seems to take charge?
I attempt to walk towards the west,
But events cast me into the mouth of the east.
The Ancient Longing Awakens
As stated by Al-Farzdaq:
The ancient longing awakens for you,
Within the stages between the waiting and the sleep.
The prison has stood between me and them till I forget them,
And made me oblivious to the memory of every intimate.
Though I recall them every night, like a fever,
That a healthy body sometimes can’t escape.
If I hear that they are lost to their lives,
Then the calamity revisits their memories.
If the wind blows from their homeland,
I would say in distant places, “They are sick.”
And if you deny what you knew,
What is time but a wretched state for us?
It has a day of misfortunes that does not fail him,
And a day when his sun met with blessings.
And it is known that caravans complained
Of barren lands where they were injured.
They fight for them like birds without their backs,
With jaws that lack fat.
Longing for fulfillment through all kinds of cravings,
Needs stemming from melancholy.
How many tents have I set up in every triumph,
Looking for spaces in the valleys and amidst the calamities?
As if the humble one is drowning in the tumult of a boat,
With traces of the wanderers without dismay.
When Qais and Khuindif met,
All inhabitants fell when they fell apart.
No one from among them can cross but through them,
Among the people, except they remain in a standstill.
How can the people know, when Qais leads them,
When blocked in front of them with determination?
It seems that Khuzaymah will encounter,
For them is the mother of wilfulness and fertility.
They are the pleasant two who met,
To a fate in the heavens long established.
Whoever sees our hills when they meet,
Merely sees them bound in their elevated discussions.
Khindif will not abandon but for high standards as Qais,
When the tribes boast against their own stars.
We surpass the people in every sight,
For us is a tall bed to the tips of the flames.
For if this people were to swear their bonds,
Against us in battle, every violent deed.
Indeed, when we are with them, like a servant with his master,
If he runs, it returns him with anger.
And the beckoner to war knows that
With the collected bones of war, he is not troubled.
If Mudar the Crimson folds a day to embrace,
Upon me and the bit hits my body.
They refuse that I should overwhelm people except with oppression,
And I am the son of the ruthless enemy.
My Longing River
As stated by Abdul Rahman Al-Ashmawi:
Though I am minimal, my ambition makes me rich,
I complain neither of deficiency nor loss.
O princess of my heart, I am not the poet who
Presents with the left and takes with the right.
Nor am I the one who listens to every crasher,
When I hear the trumpets, I lend my ears.
Nor am I one whose heart is free of love,
Only to stab the back of the confident with betrayal.
I have learned the essence of life in its goodness and woes,
Lessons upon which I lean my back.
I have been aware since the nightingale sang,
And turned my longings into existence.
The rivers of longing flow in the pulse of my heart,
So do not ask what we saw and tasted.
I love you, even if the nightingales understood
The truth of this love; they would not reserve their tune.
If my love stretched to encompass the universe,
Leila would not reckon her passion, nor would Lubna.
If a torrent from the flood rushed down,
Descending from the peaks of the mountains into the lowlands,
Settling within the hillocks’ corners and driving it,
Transforming it after a stretch into a lush garden.
And it flowed the length and width of the land,
Leaving no roof for the houses nor corners.
And it left no place for footsteps within,
Nor did it spare the survivors a refuge.
Transforming the traces of the lands, it left no beauty
In the eyes of beholders to behold.
Changing it into plains, hills, and gardens,
It spared neither trunk nor branch for the trees.
A Longing That Comes and Goes with Time
As stated by Elia Abu Madi:
A longing that comes and goes with time,
And if you renew it, it shall grow anew.
Do not heed my advice in moments of calm,
For indeed, my sorrow has faded into weariness.
For nothing increases the distress of the mournful,
As your saying to the melancholic, “Bear it.”
For I have disobeyed him until the mention of
The beloved has rekindled every denial.
And it chased sleep away from my eyelids, pulling me
Out of my slumbering state where worries roam.
In the thick of the night, like my black fortune,
It was like an empty sea, a shade of misfortune.
I ventured to gaze at the stars, upward,
With my eyes caught between the rising and the falling.
Some drifting, others rushing in a state of quaking,
They traverse this vastness above their lives.
And the full moon’s gentle beams shine upon it,
As clear as a poet’s mind amidst inspirations.
It winds through the darkness until it steadies,
So, oh, how white it appears in the black abyss.
And the streaks gleam across the firmament as if they were
The dreams of gentle souls in a nightly repose.
You Hold a Permanent Place in My Heart
As expressed by the Omani Al-Ma’awli:
You have a place in my heart that will never change,
And a pure affection that will never wane.
A goodwill from us that has aged over time,
And an honest love that does not cease with meeting.
I’ve never come to you seeking a favor,
And I presumed it would never be hard to acquire.
If I have committed a careless sin,
Then in my earn I repent and seek forgiveness.
Or if you hear from me what is not what
You wish, by my very nature I am unable.
Far be it from you to forsake a loyal friend,
For your affection is forever constant and unwavering.
My pledge to your heart is a sincere bond,
But it manifests beautifully in your kind nature.
If I came to you previously to request something,
There was no hesitation or difficulty.
Today, I do not know for what reason
Our goodwill towards my needs now strains.
Since I have known you, my heart has never been troubled,
Not even as years and eras pass.
I will never forget your kindness as long as I live,
Even if thousands of years come and go.
I keep steadfastly my warmth for my dear friends,
Gentle even if they change or vary.
I do not repay my beloved ones with disdain,
Even if they turn harsh after what was clear.
And if someone came to you, seeking pardon for their sin,
I will forgive my friend and will not act haughty.
He inherits the kingdoms, glories, and honors,
The sword of Sultan Ibn Saif Al-Athar.
He pardons great sins with graciousness,
And tolerance; he is the wise, capable one.
O leader of Muslims, may you be blessed,
In all righteous deeds that come easily.
When the nightingale sings or a soft breeze blows,
Among the branches, and when the rain descends.
Fill My Gardens with My Longing for You
As expressed by Al-Warghi:
Fill my gardens with my longing for you,
Will the desired ever be seen?
And will the eyelids brush where your footsteps tread,
That have traversed the peaks from any place?
And will I one day glance at the lands you have seen,
With your eyes, or where your feet have passed?
My wishes are fulfilled; what follows from your pleasure,
Is a call to the spirits that have poured down upon him.
It brings me near with hope that keeps me anchored,
And makes me sit back, deprived of my glorious time.
When you send your group from the west,
Longing takes flight to your proximity.
And I cast a meaningful glance at that elevation,
As the value of a glance to the inclined bench.
If not to embrace, I would not be but as a companion,
In a wide space; oh, those who opened the door of God.
I converse with her in silence, deprived of my essence,
So she leans in, without losing her grip on me.
And becomes like the evening in every abode,
Diminishing the length of steps accompanied with longing.
And shortens the farewells before she arrives,
To land upon the throne afterward.
If she beholds the palace of the farmers, shining,
Then in the manor, after eight shall the evening prevail.
And if she meets a place called Qabus,
Tripoli will pass without reins.
To recede to Egypt, where the dwellings align,
And if the distance is vast, they will be united.
They will say, “What is in the pool now but the spirits,”
The heart finds solace to the buoys calling me.
And in the green hills, my breath does not settle,
Nor does it reside in the domes, where my spirit lingers.
And my longing for the palm well before Iyla,
And my closeness to the current increases in my wrestling.
As if when I reach the cave, dreaming,
Echoes with reeds intertwining.
So what connects me to the maidens who weep,
With my tears flowing like their oils.
I feel nostalgic for the scenery of Hunayn, and my goal,
Is my Obsessions to meet without delay.
Maybe I shall see from Rabegh following Bazzama,
And the well of Ali is a determination for the tardy,
Then I shall escape from the valley of swiq and its oppression,
To join the gathering of righteous people in Asfahn.
And from Murra’s depths, the mosques beneath watch over,
Homes leading to the ancient house, where destinies do flow.
They are dwellings for joy and nothing else will hold,
I have turned away from the two covering and the obstinacy.
We have reached it with neither the high seas nor the roofing,
A sacredness and invitation meet.
In it, the heeding and calling encounter each other,
A site of convergence, connecting from what they have brought.
For me are great wishes with trust.
When they disperse, time crashes upon them with sincerity,
The days shall call upon the convictions of the ones they see.
Grant me the choicest welcome as the chill of the divine descends,
It stays clean without slack, and in your aura of mercy,
You are like the one who bestows upon the road the lights shining brightly.