Poem: I Have Published in the Procession of Lovers
I have published in the procession of lovers,
Before me, many have suffered in love’s trial.
I journeyed within it without departing from its dominion,
Until I discovered the kings of passion as my servants.
Since the oath was taken, long ago,
In the sanctuary of beauty, my abstraction and sanctity,
Your love has cast me into the realm of profound affection,
To a lofty and noble station in love.
I was unaware that in this realm,
My family holds the lineage of its origin,
They are my most cherished companions and companions of fate.
I spent time there until my hour passed,
Months, days, and hours blended into years.
The critic believes that rebuke restrains me,
But the critic sleeps while my desire intensifies and sleeps.
If the tears of my eyes annually diminish,
I have been bestowed upon with kindness and grace.
O driver of the camels of my beloved, perhaps slow down,
And proceed gently, for my heart is amidst the herds.
I have traversed every station in your love,
And never left a station before you.
I presumed I had reached the highest and most precious status among my kin,
Until a station emerged that hadn’t crossed my mind or thoughts.
If my worth in love is to you as I have experienced,
Then I have wasted my days in vain.
A wish my soul cherished for a long duration,
Yet today I deem it merely a delusion:
And if my overwhelming desire for your love
Is sinful, then my transgressions in love have indeed multiplied.
If I had known that love would end in this demise,
I would never have ventured against the waves of fate.
I entrusted my heart to one who wouldn’t safeguard it,
I glance behind, yet I fail to look ahead.
I was struck by an arrow from your gaze,
Wounding my heart, oh my yearning for the archer.
Ah, for a glance from Him that I cherish,
For the ultimate goal of seeing the archer.
Should God bless my soul with His love,
While my body is amongst spirits and beings,
And behold my beloved’s face,
Neither grief nor joy of my fortune and fate.
The time of union has shaded me, O my hope,
So bestow upon me stability in my heart and limbs.
What I have arrived with has not been an offering,
Except for my passion, my yearnings, and my bravery.
I have reached the abode of peace then,
Through the paths of my faith and submission.
O Lord, show me a gaze towards You,
Upon my arrival, and treat me with honor.
Poem: For Your Eyes What the Heart Encounters and What It Has Encountered
For your eyes, what the heart encounters and what it has experienced,
And for love, what remains of me and what has persisted.
And I was not among those who let affection in their hearts,
But whoever sees your eyelids becomes enamored.
Between satisfaction and anger, longing and departure,
There’s a realm for the tears of the shimmering lashes.
The sweetest love doubts in its unions,
Yet in separation, it hopes and fears throughout eternity.
Angry from disobedience, intoxicated from youth,
I pleaded to her from my youth with sweet fervor.
I veiled my mouth from Him, thus He kissed my crown,
And the slender gazelles, like your beauty, adorned me.
I could not distinguish an idle lover from a devoted one,
And not everyone who loves remains chaste when alone.
Grant to God the days of youth that please you,
And He acts like the ancient Babylonian does.
If you were to embrace time, indulging in it,
You would flourish while the fabric remains unblemished.
I have never seen anything like the glances on the day of their departure,
They send forth with every sting from all the fearful.
They sent glances filled with wandering, as if they were
Compounded brows above a shimmering abyss.
On the evening they drew away from sight and tears,
And the pleasure of goodbye, fearful of separation.
We bid them farewell, and the gap between us is like
The spears of Ibn al-Hayja in the heart of the legion.
It has paths, in that raw canvas, woven by David’s art,
Like the adornments of armies, as they choose.
They lead every shield and breastplate towards their battle,
And approach them with every wall and trench.
Changing between lukewarm waters,
They anchor between the Euphrates and Gilgamesh.
They return red, as if their righteous is weeping,
Blood from the mercy of the vigilant spirit.
So do not reach me what I say for indeed,
He is brave; whenever the mention of war arises, he excitedly grips.
Striking with the tips of the swords’ edges,
Playing with the sides of delicate words.
Asking those who inquire of rain but a drop,
As if he rebukes and says gently to the fates.
You have given generously until you have given in every creed,
And even the praises come from every tongue.
The king of Rome saw your enjoyment of the rain,
So he stood in the position of the flattering advisor.
And he released the spears, hoping to break through,
To strike in combat with all the prowess.
And he wrote from distant land, longing for its aims,
Close upon steeds surround you, hastening their pace.
And he journeyed in your direction, a silent messenger,
Until he approached, concealing his location,
The gleam of shining blades illuminating the atmosphere,
And he walked along the carpet, unaware,
If he sought the sea or climbed the moon,
And he was not deterred from his beloved heart.
You were submissive in a splendid manner,
And when you wrote to him, before these times.
You penned to him in the outlet of the desert.
Then if you granted him your safety, be wary,
And if you gave him the sharpness of the sword, then create distance.
Have the bright swords left them,
Enslaved for a free man, or a captive to the liberator?
They arrived at the water of the quail’s sharpness,
And passed them all as a procession of bounty.
I reached through the sword of the state and illuminated the rank,
I lit up what lay between the West and the East.
If he wishes to amuse himself with the beard of a fool,
He can find his dusty self, then tell him the truth.
And how much the envy stings is something I purposely intended,
But he grapples with the sea—he drowns.
The prince tries the people with his opinion,
And remains oblivious to his wisdom among the wise.
And the shutting of the eye isn’t beneficial,
If the eye of the heart is not drooping at all.
O seeker, dwell near Him and you shall hesitate,
And O deprived, postulate and earn.
And you wisest of knights, stand near and you shall boldly challenge,
And you bravest among the brave, abandon him, and you shall be perplexed.
Should the enemies approach, trying to trap his glory,
His grandfather endeavored in their conspiracy with great fervor.
And virtue will not redeem itself against adversity,
If the virtue of the fortunate fails to flourish amidst the setting sun.
Poem: My Heart Tells Me That You Are My Longing
My heart tells me that you are my longing,
My soul is devoted to you, whether you have recognized or not.
I have not fulfilled the rights of your love, if I am the one
Who has not suffered in it, and who among others could compensate?
I possess nothing except my spirit, bestowing my being
In love, where no extravagance exists.
So if you accept it, you shall have saved me;
Alas, what failure in pursuit if you do not respond!
You who deny the sweetness of dreams, and grant
The attire of despair along with my lingering devotion.
Out of compassion for what you have left me,
Of my broken body and afflicted heart.
For passion lasts, while connection is upon delay,
And patience is fleeting, with reunion ever postponed.
I am not free from jealousy regarding you, so do not waste
My wakefulness with the malice of fleeting dreams.
Ask the stars of the night: has slumber visited
My eyelids, and how can it visit one who is unacquainted?
It is not strange if they have withheld
Their glimmering light, and my eyes are dripping tears.
With what transpired during the moment of departure,
The ache of separation, I witnessed the magnitude of the situation.
If there be no union with you, then promise
My hope shall endure; if you fulfill, do not deceive.
For mine is a yearning that has beautifully transformed
If you could only restore the love of a beleaguered heart.
Ah, for the breaths of a gentle breeze,
And for the face carrying its fragrance that calls me;
Perhaps the flames igniting my innermost will
Might extinguish, yet I wish for them not to cease.
O people of my affection, you are my hope,
Call forth my calling; O you who have brought me comfort in your presence,
Return to what you once bore of loyalty,
Generosity, for indeed I am that loyal soul.
For life, by your life, I swear,
In all my days, without your affection, I could never swear.
If my soul were in my palm and I gifted it away
To the announcers of your arrival, that would not be fair.
Do not presume me to be affected in love
For my longing for you is genuine, devoid of artifice.
I concealed my love, thus sorrow concealed me,
Until, I swear, I neared vanishing into the depths.
And if I were to reveal it, indeed,
You would find it more concealed than subtle beauty.
I will say to those who meddle in love:
You have deemed yourself exposed to calamity, so seek out an aim.
You are the slain one of anyone you wish;
Choose for yourself in love whom you will select.
Say to the reproacher: you have prolonged my reproach as if enticed,
That blaming my love is halted and I remain awed.
Abandon your refraining and taste the sweetness of love;
If you fell in love, then chastise me afterward.
My concealment has fled with love from whom, if night
Would lift her veil, I would cry, O crescent, hide!
And if another is satisfied with shadows of imagination,
I am the one who inspires possession and shall not tire.
My love remains steadfast, in my judgement and in my distress,
With less than confiding through him, I shall not abide.
And his love, which is my solace, is ample enough,
I swore, as if I was venerating the sacred texts.
If he said, “Stand upon the burning coals,”
I would stand in compliance, without hesitation.
Or if those who are pleased by my cheeks make an approach,
I would lay myself upon the ground without disdain.
Do not deny my passion in what pleases, even if
He has yet to show compassion in our joining.
Passion overcomes, and I have obeyed the orders of desire,
From which I disobey the command of restraint.
For him, I am humbled, and thus he fulfills for me
The respect of the prostrated and strength of the subjugated.
Alas, my heart has grown acquainted with rejection,
Since I existed, without his warmth, I have not made a friend.
How many charming things he has pleased me with,
And how delightful was that which he offered!
<pShould they mention Jacob’s beloved beauty,
In their features, he would forget the taste of Joseph’s grace.
<pOr if he saw him returning, then Job, during
A period of slumber, would be healed from all affliction.
All the moons when appearing before him,
Are drawn to him, and every delicate blossom yearns for entity.
<pIf I said, “With you, I bear all desire,”
He would respond: “Beauty is mine; all grace belongs to me.”
His splendid characteristics would never lessen the glow,
For if he presented illumination, the full moon would not be deprived.
<pAnd with those possessing hands endowed with beauty,
Time fails while the unspoken brilliance would endure.
And I have spent my all on love for him,
Both enamored by his beauty and praising the beauty of my endeavor.
<pThe eye longs for a representation of beauty, for
My spirit leans towards a hidden sempiternal meaning.
<pBring forth my brother, and let me hear his words,
And scatter before my hearing his beauty, and make it sweet,
So I may witness with the eye of hearing the proof of his beauty,
As meaning, and thus honor me with it.
O sister of luck, from my beloved, come to me
With a message delivered with utmost cause.
For I have heard what you have not, and seen what you
Have yet to see and comprehended what you have not known.
If he visits, O my wrath, run to pieces
In zeal for him, and should he walk, O my eyes, weep a stream.
The separation bears no fault, and whoever I desire with me,
If they are away from the being of my vision, they are as lost.
Poem: It Brings Joy to Women
It brings joy to women… I take off the raincoat that I wear,
And close my umbrella, leaving them to fall upon my body,
One by one,
Fruits of fire and birds of gold.
It brings joy to women… I unzip all the buttons of my shirt,
Allowing them to glide upon the hills,
And bathe in my waters,
And dance in my forests
And murmur late at night like birds upon my trees…
I emerge like a child into the garden
And let them roll like pearls upon my forehead—
One woman… one pearl…
I carry them like snow in the palm of my hand,
Fearing they might melt like snow between my fingers,
From the warmth of love.
It brings joy to women… the plains emerge… the towns spring forth,
The rich come forth… and the poor emerge as well.
One bears a hunting rifle,
Another carries a fishing rod,
Another holds a load of sweat,
Another carries a pillow and a bed…
It brings joy to women… the whole nation is besieged,
Preparing to attack the white hue,
And one wants to marry the snow;
Another seeks to consume it;
Yet another wants to take it to his household,
And one pulls a checkbook from his pocket
To buy any blonde breast that falls from the sky,
To make it a decoration in his bedroom…
The snow hears the sound of drums and the jingle of chains,
And sees the glimmer of daggers and the sheen of fangs,
It fears for its virginity… and decides to fall in another land…
The snow hears the sound of drums and the jingle of chains,
And sees the glimmer of daggers and the sheen of fangs,
It fears for its virginity… and decides to fall in another land…
Poem: The Imprint of the Butterfly
The imprint of the butterfly
The imprint of the butterfly is unseen.
The imprint of the butterfly never fades,
It is the attraction of a mystery,
Drawing meanings and departing
When the path becomes clear.
It is the lightness of the eternal in the mundane,
Longing for the sublime,
And a beautiful radiance.
It is a mark in the light, prompting us
To the words; our inner essence, the guide.
It is like a song that attempts
To say but settles
For quoting the shadows,
And utters nothing…
The imprint of the butterfly is unseen,
The imprint of the butterfly never fades!
Poem: They Prepared for Departure, Yet They Could Not
They braced for departure, yet could not.
Farewell, O paradise of this world, farewell.
May the days unite me, for indeed
I see life as parting and gathering.
Oh, if the lands had hearts
Like the hearts of people, they would burst open with grief.
And I wish with every separation
That part of my sadness could ease.
By Allah, if she knew of my location,
The steeples and the towers would voice their lament.
They have contained the tenderness and heights,
And when I dissolve with presence, there lies complaint.
I asked my heart about those nights,
Were they nights of solace or mere hours?
And the heart answered: they passed by swiftly,
Like moments in remembrance, they did not linger.
They intertwined the glory of Muhammad and the legacy of Jesus,
They have graced you with their acclaim.
So has our division become burdensome,
Making the ignorant extend disputes among us.
I see the Merciful has safeguarded his two mosques
With the longest wall from their estrangement.
You were a pillar for the house of the honored,
And you were the ascent of the revered.
Your atmosphere and eyes shatter us,
It is enough for life’s commodity.
And your sun, every time it rises in the horizon,
Life trembles under its gleam.
Your beauties are near the earth as houris,
Friends without veil or mask.
Around a sea of azure,
Glorified by Allah’s creation and innovation.
The silver stream flows, while it turns
Into hills upon paradise’s sheer face.