The Blame of the Critics on My Wandering Heart by Al-Mutanabbi
Criticism from the critics surrounds my lost heart,
and the affection of loved ones deepens its darkness.
It complains of its heat to those who admonish,
and it withdraws when they reproach it for its sorrows.
By my very soul, O my critic, the master whom
I have displeased far more than you can appease.
If he has indeed captured the hearts of many,
then he has dominion over time, both in his land and in the sky.
The sun is among his jealous opponents, and victory comes from
his allies while the sword bears his name.
Where are the three great virtues of his character,
his beauty, his pride, and his valor?
Time has passed, and we have not witnessed his equal,
and indeed, we have come forth, only to fall short of his counterparts.
By Your Life, This World is Not a Place of Permanence by Abu al-Atahiya
By your life, this world is not a place of permanence,
for death is indeed the abode of transience.
So do not fall in love with this world, for truly,
the lover of this world is seen to be striving in vain.
Its sweetness is mixed with bitterness,
and its pleasures are intertwined with hardship.
Do not walk in garments of deception,
for you were created from clay and water.
Rarely will you encounter a man who is grateful to God,
and seldom will you find one satisfied with His decree.
Indeed, God has bestowed upon us tremendous blessings,
and He has granted us generosity and grace.
Time is never static in its variation,
and not every day of youth is the same.
Life is but a day of misery and hardship,
followed by a day of joy and ease.
Not everything I do not hope for will be denied to me,
and not everything I long for is found by those who hope.
O, how strange the nature of time is—
for doubt disrupts every bond.
The uncertainties of time scatter every gathering,
and the troubles of time disturb every sense of peace.
When my dear friend settles in the realm of decay,
then for me, his absence is all that remains.
I visit the graves of the privileged and see no glory,
though they were, once, the epitome of magnificence.
Every era is connected with firmness,
and every time feels softened by remorse.
It is hard to withstand the force of death against any ploy,
and every remedy fails before the onset of death.
And the spirit of youth is delighted by its growth,
even as each essence diminishes.
Many a life has been sacrificed without the reflection of their kin,
and they neither granted ransom for it.
Before you, O Numaan, is the abode of happiness,
where permanence is found, and the dwellings of despair.
You are created for one of two ends, so do not slumber,
and balance your fear with hope.
Among people is evil; were their true nature revealed, they would not unite,
but indeed, God has adorned them with a veil of protection.
Reprimand Follows the Level of Affection by Ahmed Shawqi
Reprimand comes proportional to affection,
and whoever I admonish is supported by friends.
I blame my tormentors, and thus I blame myself,
irritating it while the pain appeases it.
If I were able, I would repent from it,
but how can I escape from my own spirit?
My heart is destined to love, and it is rewarded,
and its master is justly compensated.
Had punishment been available, I would have acted; however,
the wild gazelle cannot be contained.
The reproachful cast blame without witnessing,
and in bygone times, the truth has been lost amidst the masses.
I awoke to find my heart denying its solace,
and reverted to the pleasures of youth.
As if the hand of passion has the reins of my heart,
there is no veil upon it but love itself.
Like the tale of longings, the return feels circular,
it restarts, yet the narrative remains unfinished.
It appears that love binds us like a fond drink,
for we have an oath concerning it, and we cherish its companionship.
When I refrain from a love affair that longs,
I renew my vow with unbroken bonds.