The Breezes of Al-Hijaz in the Dawn
From the romantic poems of Antarah ibn Shaddad during the pre-Islamic era:
The cool breezes of Al-Hijaz at dawn
When its fragrant perfume reaches me,
It is more delightful than anything I hold
From pearls, wealth, or the treasures of Khosrow;
I do not long for the kingship of Khosrow
When the beloved’s face is absent from sight.
May the tents, pitched on the
Delights of joy, be watered by the rain!
Homes where the moons rise,
Veiled in the shadows of hair,
In white and dark hues, protecting their quarters
Like lions in the wilderness, both white and dark,
They captured my heart—a young maiden
With enchanting eyes framed in kohl,
Tempting me from her lips when she smiles,
A goblet of wine encircled with pearls.
She borrowed the deer’s enchanting gaze
And has made a cautious lion of my heart.
A slender, charming maiden
Who outshines the moon in her beauty.
O A’bla, the fire of passion sears my insides,
Wounding my heart with fiery arrows.
O A’bla, if only dreams would not visit me,
I would have spent my night in mourning and wakefulness.
O A’bla, how many temptations have I endured,
I faced them with my brave sword,
And the black-faced steeds, their faces grim,
Plunging into a sea of peril and danger.
I defend against calamities for you, yet can’t
Resist fate and destiny.
A Captivated Heart
From the romantic verses of Jamil ibn Ma’mar:
O my friend, come today until you both greet
The charming one with gentle teeth and delightful fragrance.
If you would just honor me for a moment,
I would be grateful until I rest in my grave;
May her heart flourish, and intercede for me,
And may she drink rain that is pure and wholesome.
Speak of me to Buthayna and watch
If she finds peace or longs for my memories.
If the ties of love between us have not severed,
And she hasn’t forgotten my past affections,
Then signs of longing and desire will surely appear
In her gaze, and streams of tears will flow.
And if she has turned away from our covenant,
And has listened to the admonishments and reproaches,
Then you will see her aloofness, and I swear she’s not
In my heart, a traitor or deceiver.
I seek refuge in You, O Lord, that distance may not
Separate me from Buthayna in my lifetime nor after death.
May the resting place of my grave unite us;
O, the sweetest death if that was my fate!
For in love, I am lost; my solace comes from you,
And there’s no negligence nor slackness from you.
Able, oh you who passionately incite love: do you see
A heart that is seduced into love as I am?
Do you find that passions do not wither while loves fade,
And my love for Buthayna does not cease with punishment?
She is the full moon in beauty, while women are stars,
And the difference between stars and the moon is vast!
She has preferred excellence over mankind as if
In a thousand nights, she favored the Night of Decree.
Salutation to her from the one afflicted with longing,
And a love entangled in confusions and thoughts.
If you both do not return, I will turn my longing, for today is the day of separation.
Can a dove mourn its lost love, and I remain patient? What is this unwritten tale with distance from Buthayna!
Why should I not weep, while in the groves a weeper cries,
And I have been forsaken with her grace and form?
They say: He is enchanted, losing his mind in thoughts of her,
And I swear, I am neither mad nor under a spell.
And I swear, I will not forget you as long as dawn breaks,
And the cool winds blow through the barren fields.
I have become enamored with your memory, Buthayna,
Just as a drunken man craves wine.
I recalled my stay on the Night of the Baan, grasping
The hand of a beautiful maid in tears like the moon,
So much that it overwhelmed me;
I, without control, shed tears upon my throat.
Oh, how I wish that I could spend a night
Like our night until we see the early dawn,
When she generously bestows conversation, and at times
She bestows the sweetest nectar from her lips.
Oh, may God’s decree allow me such a moment,
So that my Lord would know my gratitude.
Had she asked for my life, I would offer it willingly,
Just as surely as that’s my matter!
Time has passed, if I could choose between it,
And everlasting life, I’d say: Allow me just an hour with Buthayna,
Before the malicious gossips cut short my days.
With a wide smile, if her saliva could heal the dead,
They would rise from their graves healed by it.
Whenever I compose poetry not mentioning her,
My poetry refuses to cooperate with me.
Since then, I found no comfort
Nor lived beyond it; life continues until the Day of Resurrection.
And She with Grace Like the Full Moon
From the verses of Bashar ibn Burd:
And she, with a graceful form, was as radiant as the moon,
Spent the night singing sweetly to the intoxicated heart.
Indeed, the eyes that hold a beautiful longing
Have slain us but have not revived our slain.
I said, “You have improved, O soul and my hope,”
“Now, convey to me a blessing from your kindness.”
O, how I adore the heights of Al-Rayan!
And how I delight in its inhabitants!
She said, “Why don’t you show your spirit more beautifully?
For those who are lovesick often yearned with confusion.”
O people, listen to the yearning among one of my kind,
For it is the ear that loves before the eye sometimes.
I said, “You have spoken well; you are the bright sun,
Igniting a fire within my heart and innermost being.”
So, lend me a melodious and enchanting voice,
To add to the desires of a lover obsessed with you.
Oh, how I wish to be a perfumed blossom,
Or a fragrance among the bushes of basil
Until she finds my scent and revels in it,
While we are in seclusion, I have assumed a form of a human.
She played her flute and danced joyfully,
Singing in a melody that could not be concealed.
I have become the most obedient creature to God’s will,
Among the many who defy love every day.
I said, “You have delighted us, O beauty of our assembly,”
“So give generously, for you have favorably treated us.”
If I had known that love would kill me,
I would have prepared my shroud before meeting you.
Then she sang a melodious tune of delightful song,
It awakens joy and brings tears to the eye.
May God not kill anyone whose love remains steadfast,
But God sometimes slays the treacherous.
You Kindled the Flames of Love in My Heart
From the romantic poems of Abu Nuwas:
You ignited the flames of love in my heart,
Then denied your guilt.
Until I found myself immersed in the sea of desire,
With waves crashing against my heart.
You revealed my secret and forgot me,
This is not the fairness, my beloved.
Give me, can I not release my heart from love?
Are you not afraid of the Lord?
A Beautiful Dark-Haired Maiden with Gazelles
From the poetic works of Abdul Rahman Al-Suwaidi:
A beautiful dark-haired maiden, graceful like the gazelle,
With a figure as supple and upright as a branch.
She is unmatched by any doe in the wilderness,
Nor in the cities are there ladies of such grace.
Her face shines like the radiant moon,
And her hair is as dark as the shadowy nights.
Her hair billows and speaks of her graceful neck,
And of the ornate earrings that accompany her lovely feet.
She possesses smooth cheeks with dew-like moisture,
Should she part it, the sweetness would flow like water.
She carries a beauty mark on her cheek,
Completing the charm that lacks any flaws.
She is like a perfumed incense, an attraction like musk,
Or like a dark figure amidst the flames.
Her stunning eyes shoot arrows at hearts,
She shines as a slim girl, the essence of beauty.
On a day of celebration, I glimpsed her beauty,
And I was then captivated by her charm.
She glanced at me with a charming gaze,
Crossing the line in torturing hearts.
Then she said, “Oh, leave him, do not be like one
Who dies from longing and yearning for a meeting.”
O maidens, today is our fate,
It is based on separation, and do not inquire of us.
Then she walked away like a frightened gazelle,
From the hands of a hunter, bound in nets.
My distressed heart followed her path,
While my hands toyed with the strands of grass.
From my right eye, tears flowed,
And from my left, a cloud gathered.
In such a time, few companions remain,
And I am the wretched, devoid of fortune.
There was no honest friend for me,
Nor any companion for sincere affection.
And a generous one I hoped to find riches with,
While I sought my joy through honorable means.
Neither the Lord of Glory is a giver of gifts
Nor am I in good fortune—my needs are great!
A commendable deed praised among the noble traits,
Hatim is among those generous in giving.
A refuge for those who seek refuge from calamities,
How often a poor soul has harbored safety!
If I speak to the minister’s son,
I see the best blessings among those perfected.
Why not? He is the one who epitomizes generosity!
For he embodies benevolence in all good actions.
He reflects qualities like Al As’ani—
In every aspect of conflict or battle,
For in times of war he incites its flames.
How many mountains have fallen due to his might!
Ask the lion, for Ibrahem is formidable,
And how fierce his wrath has befallen.
On the day of battle, he struck as his enemies choked,
With his weapon preparing to unleash doom,
Even a green hawk, if troubled by someone very strong,
He turns bloody in combat.
May the alcove of the majestic ones be proud,
Where the cavalry essays their charge.
Do not gaze upon the battlefield like a bat—you may not endure,
In a violent throng of armored horses.
He is always fierce when threats arise,
And he stands proudly in uproar and conflict.
When in grievous straits, he bravely leads,
And counterattacks cleverly, as danger intensifies.
These traits, indeed, accompany balance and justice,
While promoting virtues unmatched amongst men.
In greetings of good fortune, he duplicatively rises,
In places of joy and roses stand tall in grace;
Shall it not be better than living on my sorrow’s fate?
May you remain ever joyful and shining.