Poem “This is Me”
Written by Nizar Qabbani:
I have become addicted to my sorrows,
Now I fear that I may not grieve,
And I have been wounded thousands of times,
To the point where it pains me not to be wounded.
I have cursed in all languages,
And it troubles me that we do not curse.
Indeed, I have hanged myself on the wall of my poems,
With my last wish being… do not bury me.
Every land resembles another,
I see neither myself there, nor here.
All women seem the same,
Mary’s form in the darkness is like Mona’s… My poetry was never an idle game,
Nor a moonlit stroll.
I write poetry, my lady,
To understand who I am. O my lords:
I travel in a train of tears,
Do poets ride only in trains of pains?
I contemplate inventing water,
For poetry makes every dream possible.
I think about inventing a breast,
So that the desert after me bears wildflowers.
I also ponder inventing a flute,
So that the poor may taste the sweetness of life after me.
If they take away my childhood home,
I have made poetry my homeland.
O my lords:
The sky is vast indeed,
But the moneylenders who divided our inheritance,
Who divided our nations,
And divided our bodies,
Have left us with no inch to claim.
Poem “I Tell Them as Separation Has Come”
Written by Ma’ruf al-Rusafi:
I tell them as separation has recently occurred,
Hold on, for the noose has tightened.
They departed with the full moons, and you showed no mercy to them,
Yearning, with desire not fading.
My heart hovers above your heads,
And my tears flow beneath your feet.
May Allah lift this veil of glances,
In which the blood of lovers is spilled.
And I keep dark eyes for the maidens,
Even if I forget the fair ones.
When will the heart awaken after it was filled,
With a cup of love overflowing?
People are nothing but the youthful,
Or those who yearn and those who are yearned for.
We passed through deserted homes,
Where the ravaging storms pierced through.
As if I had not felt their cruel arrows,
And no tents had struck their grounds.
I stumbled over the ruins,
Inquiring about the friends who have gone.
As if among the ruins of memories,
I am shackled with despair.
Cold steel in my heart’s doubts,
For there is no way out of this pain.
Poem “I Cry and Cry in the Light and Darkness”
Written by Hayfa Bint Subeih al-Qudai:
I cry and cry in dawn and dusk,
For a boy of pride, a fierce lion.
Oh, how I long for him, and how futile is this longing,
Unless it fights against warriors and clans.
Tell the one who carries the shame of all men,
You have suffered the disgrace of others.
Will your son be slain, O son of Fatima,
And drink from wells of troubled dreams?
By Allah, I still weep and lament for him,
Until my uncles come to visit you full of rage.
Every dark-skinned noble loves in moderation,
And each pure white one is noble and pure.
I cried, yet it bore no fruit, my sadness did not ease.
I must force the tears and sorrow,
It is ugly, it is ugly to see tears that do not suffice,
And uglier still to find a heart that does not perish.
The highest jewels have departed, and what manliness will be left?
If we reserve for ourselves the lowliest gain.
Grief has befallen me after loss,
And sorrow has come to me in twos again.
Once there was a heart full of joy,
But now the abode lies in ruin.
Poem “I Have Died, Yet I am Alive”
Written by Abu Zubaid al-Tai:
I have died yet I am alive,
On the day that Khansa of Banu Amir departed,
From my own kin is a part of my soul,
Divided as a cloak is torn apart.
She drank in the yellow in whiteness,
And she is a green-eyed beauty.
Every eye that looks upon her,
Is mesmerized by her captivating charm.
So spare me, for there are hardships that have their rightful claim,
And abandon the flattering desires.
Oh, I wonder where my wishful thoughts,
Whether they are fulfilling or causing pain.
Which way did the runner run to stop my drink,
As the dawn shows the starry paths?
The sparrow seeks refuge from the lizard’s sting,
And the grasshoppers know the flames that control its life.
When people of the town deny my identity,
The owls of the desert recognize me.
They know my she-camel by its qualities,
Except for the birds, it remains silent.
They know the long night and Leila well,
Indeed, this night wraps the eyes like a shroud.
Poem “To You, O Allah, I Have Not Parted”
Written by Abu al-Hassan al-Jurjani:
To You, O Allah, I have not strayed,
And I am bereft of solace, worn down.
And when I call upon my patience, it answers me,
With tears that pour down and seek meaning.
They rise from my chest like blood,
And the eyelids shed them, colored red.
For You, I feel a yearning unmeasured,
Far beyond the longing I’ve known before.
As if the shaking of a spear in my chest each time,
Reveals a flash of lightning or your presence.
I send my breath to the north with my messages,
And sigh deeply as they echo back.
When the scorching winds blow fiercely,
It ignites the remnants of my breath.
If I had known the torments of love I would endure,
I would not have let separation rule our reunion.
And no one can deny the eternal flame of love,
For here I am, forever trapped in the fire of passion.
Poem “Let Him Weep Blood and Tears”
Written by the Omani poet Al-Ma’uli:
Let him weep blood and tears,
Mourning a presence that has faded away.
Do not reproach him in love out of ignorance,
For he is deaf to reproach’s sound.
When he was youthful and spirited,
We knew the essence and spirit of love.
The friendships faded over the years,
The sweet waters turned dry.
May the days of our previous joy be fruitful,
When we were blushing in love’s embrace.
In the days of youth, we roamed the gardens,
Pleasant memories evoking sunshine and shadows.
A woman with a graceful figure,
Her essence captivates all.
O gentle reproachers, cease your words,
For what I feel is nothing new.
If only you could alleviate my suffering,
You would not endure the pain I bear.
I remained in a state of longing, as if I were troubled,
Like one whose nightmares come alive.
How can I bear to endure the fire of yearning,
When it has left a mark on my heart?
Do not be astonished that I weep from longing,
After my beloved’s presence reigns forth in tears.
My tears flow abundantly from sorrow and yearning,
Like a generous ruler’s bountiful cry.
A descendant of the sword-bearing kings,
Who silences the tyrants with might.
And the Arabic lineage, which severs the necks of enemies,
Surpasses all others in pride and roots.
With grandeur and generosity enveloping all men,
They converge in a collective embrace.
I have sought noble deeds since childhood,
And still strive towards generous acts.
You have prepared all men with bountifulness,
And you have indeed granted all abundance.
No one who desires ought from you shall fade away,
If they come purposeful in their needs.
You have become the haven of grace and protection,
A stronghold for us amidst adversities.
Indeed, you have outshone the wise of your time,
With clarity and craftsmanship unparalleled.
You are the fair and just emir,
Forever tending to the needs of humanity.
In you lies the hope when raindrops fall,
Or when the clouds linger long.
On the day of trials, your heart will beat,
Echoing across the valleys and hills alike.
In moments of crisis, I shall call upon you,
As still you are the essence of noble deeds.
So I recite poetry not for myself alone,
But it has become a reflection of you.
Here is a bride adorned with love,
Bestow upon her your kindness and reverence.
She shines with the glow of the moon,
Or sparkles like the stars in their brilliance.
She has no defect besides her enemies,
Who assail her in their spite.
So grant her a dowry and be generous,
For she deserves nothing less.
If she could express, she would boast of your kindness,
Since she rightfully sings of your excellence.