Stay Focused on Enjoyment and Revelry
- From the poems of Abu Nuwas:
Do not let anything distract you from celebration and revelry
My collective opinion. Let not desires scatter your emotions.
Drink pure sulaifah, clear as a rooster’s eye,
From a hand of a goblet, akin to a graceful doe.
Yellow, not left alone; blue, if mixed,
It elevates with blessings of beauty and brilliance.
It leaps with zest, as it mixes,
Like locusts springing from meadows and shades.
It has tails of sweet scents that follow it
In light and darkness, wherever they may be.
Its lineage is not tied to palms or grapes,
But rather to golden honey and water.
The product of a bee’s non-polluted hives,
It’s graced with the finest summer and winter.
It grazes on the flowers of meadows and valleys
And drinks the clarity from brooks and marshes.
With broad noses, its cups are pure,
Innocent of disease, moving closer, desiring.
And find a nimble beloved, with a sweet whisper,
And a virgin closely followed, arriving and departing,
By night from its secret paths
To kings noble and dear.
Each in their citadel governs faithfully
From a tower of tranquility to horizons of joy.
They did not carelessly tread through varieties of fruit, nor
Did the blossoms flourish from dew and showers.
They faded along with the delights of intimacy,
So that what remains in seclusion may not wither.
Until, as they compressed their produce into discs,
They quenched our thirst with honey after pleasure.
And the time for it arrived when the tasting was due,
Before they had time to rise on a day of clarity.
They poured it down with Nile water, as it appeared
In a pot as rich as the earth’s interior.
As soon as the explorers withdrew its foam,
And the fire removed all harm from it,
They entrusted it to be parched in shimmering vessels,
Of darkened ash and veil.
And folded its mouths for ages onto sheets,
Of warm earth that is neither waste nor void.
Until it settled in its pot and soothed,
After reviving it from tumult and clamor.
It came forth like sunshine on a fortunate day,
From a tower of tranquility to horizons of joy.
It is as if a flame of water is striking it,
A fire glowing in the heart of a reed thicket.
With its mingling in the glasses, its hues
Yearn for drinking after neglecting.
As if its mixture with water has wrapped it
Like the skin of a serpent coiling around.
So drink wisely, and sing to the people, beginning
With aiding the tender reeds and the distant.
If your asceticism in this world parallels your detachment from
Connecting pathways, you may acknowledge the flow of water.
O You Who Devour the Stereotype
- Abu Nuwas, the wine poet, conveys in his verse:
O you who consume the traditional perception,
I am neither of the dawn nor of the twilight.
I do not ward off birds from trees,
I have tasted the bitterness of its fruits.
Connect if you are indeed linked
To the strengths of who you are inclined towards.
The tales of old, I fear they won’t last,
And tomorrow will reveal what I anticipated.
Disappointment befalls those who wander to lands
Unknown in the span of their journey.
And sways him with broad wrists,
In a tradition settled on a lip’s edge.
Thus proceed, let not your hand extend to me,
With kindness mixed with disdain.
For young men I nurtured are
In the land where the skies meet the earth.
Fear what might unsettle them through me,
Verily abstaining from harm is wise.
And a cousin who does not reveal the truth to us
Has donned it upon shaking spirit.
Secure in animosity towards us,
As embers lie concealed within stones.
And the color I once cherished
Keeps the thirsty quenched from its treasure.
So if the end inevitably becomes visible,
So let my perception persist among the unread.
Despite its faults, it still stands resolute,
Even if the encounters endure painful.
Then you received me toward a king,
Who grants security to the wrongdoer.
Hands will seize their dues of wrongs,
Yet they will learn to keep pace with legacies.
How could you not draw near with hope
From the Messenger of Allah and his fringes!
Inquire about the intention you cherish,
Let the Abbas fulfill your expectations.
Kings rarely appear similar,
For none have seen their own fragility.
There is no grace concealed from glance
In valley or grape-harvest season.
Those paths were tamed for him,
He is a chosen gaze for keeping.
With contributions preceding negligence,
And his fingers sparing of their mark.
And upon the battle’s frame arose a scene
Visualizing death fleeing from its forms.
A lion bleeding from its claws,
The birds would prevail in the rising sun.
Trust in satisfaction derived from their roots,
And you see the lords in attendance,
Braced against the lineage of the sun and the moon,
Many thoughts encircle them, fearing concealed introspection,
And a noble relative with good fortune,
And a kind uncle from harm’s embrace.
I have donned the ages as a youthful vigor,
Grasping lessons from whispering echoes.
So store the good that merits return
Every measure preserved awaits merit.
The One with Blazing Cheeks Captivates the Eye
- Among the finest works of Abu Nuwas:
The one with burning cheeks captures all gazes,
She has features reminiscent of the full moon.
When she walks, her lovely form sways,
And her curves beautifully ascend to her waist.
Nor are her steps just a delusion of desire,
As she graces the earth, she levels the trails.
I summoned for her by night a companion of the tavern,
With stunted limbs and a sunken back.
He approached by night, gliding as if he were
Dragging either a corpse or a soul from the grave.
He brought his cheek closer to the pitchers,
And laughed joyously at the hammer of wine.
He poured, so it vividly shone, then scattered,
Eight equal marks jotted in the verse.
I said to her, “O wine, how long have you been a witness?”
She replied, “In the jug, I resided for a long duration.”
I said to her, “The Khosrow has captured you,” and she frowned:
“She says I have failed in patience.”
I heard about Dhul-Qarnayn ere his excursion,
And of Moses’ tales before meeting his friend Al-Khidr.
If I had remained in it, I’d inhabit it,
Until the day I profess resurrection.
We spent the night in splendid lands feeling downcast,
With Satan luring us with flags of intoxication.
I Offer You, O People of Egypt, My Counsel
- From the brief pieces of advice Abu Nuwas penned for the people of Egypt:
I have given you, O people of Egypt, my advice,
So take heed from one who understands well.
Do not leap, as fools do, for peril awaits,
At the edge of high cliffs away from paths.
If in you lies the deceit of Pharaoh,
Know that Moses’ staff is strong in hand.
The commander of the faithful sent you a serpent,
To slay the dwellers of the land at high tides.
Let the Melodies Alleviate Our Griefs
- From the notable verses of Abu Nuwas:
Let the melodies express the burdens of my grief,
And revel in life’s gifts through the grape vine.
Embrace living amidst its freshness,
Do not allow the impacts of past sorrows to ground you.
From a coffee cup aged and refined,
Alas, she is an elder, following the centuries.
The era has long since passed its youth,
And here it is inhaled by the whiskers of time.
As if in its glass, there’s a flame,
Burning endlessly without a flicker.
It teems with spirits of exhilaration from its gold,
When the water flows around its edges,
It stirs dormant passions deep within.
And it sways beneath him, pressing in pursuit,
Until it extends, freeing itself from the husks.
Oh, how beautiful it is, with delicate hands,
That beckon you secretly to sip.
So remember the morning of banquets and enjoy it,
Not in the dawn of wars and losses.
More splendid than a position in ambush,
Than the gallop of hidden steeds.
The cry of the cupbearer over a withheld drink,
And the patience of one forced to retreat.
And the companionship of a deer when you mount it,
Grants you connection amid the deliverable and the chase.
It is fit for both the sword and the robe,
As it is suitable for the glimmers of sunlight above.
Beauty has adorned its face, just as
Felicitous fate graces its prestige.
When My Beloved Shunned Me and Withheld
- From the repentant poems of Abu Nuwas:
When my beloved shunned me and withheld
News from her, whether by word or letter,
My longing grew severe, nearly conquering me,
At the mention of my beloved, burdens bore on my mind.
I called upon Satan then and said silently,
In solitude, as tears poured down,
Did you not see how I am burdened,
That my eyelids are worn from weeping and wakefulness?
If you, my beloved, do not grant me affection,
In the core of my heart, and you hold the reins,
I have neither the capacity to compose poems,
Nor do I hear the songs rising within my veins,
Continuously learning the Quran,
Finding joy in its lessons anew.
I uphold fasting and prayers, yet still,
My days pass by, drenched in goodness,
But after not more than a third of a cycle,
Then my beloved arrived, seeking forgiveness.