Poetry on Praise and Pride
- As expressed by Ibn al-Rumi:
O you who are not pleased with praise,
And for whom mere tolerance is abundant,
Is there no equal to your glory in poetry,
When you set out on your journey?
As if you have descended from heights,
Where the sun and moon bear witness to your radiance.
Indeed, God holds you in higher esteem,
And He is satisfied with even a little praise.
- As articulated by Ibn Nabata Al-Masri:
O you whose lineage is akin to a house of praise,
If it were not for you, I would have neither home nor lineage.
Do not command me to praise those present, for I
Do not perceive them, nor does my heart wish to.
Between my praise of the people lies a distance,
As long as I have a basis for praising you.
- As sung by Al-Mutanabbi:
I only retain praise in my sight,
Not in my heart, for I see in the ruler,
Qualities that remind me of pearls in scattered prose.
A Poem on Praise by Al-Buhturi
Are there obstacles after my praise and delays,
After the promise from you that pleases?
No one like me can endure degradation, O Abu Nasr,
Nor would I submit to humiliation in gatherings.
Have you made the reward for my praise towards you,
A way of disdain and forgetfulness that can’t be fulfilled?
You have taken me lightly since you became prosperous,
Like the sky, while I became the land in difficulty.
Am I not the one who expressed love for you,
And felt affection for you in its purest form?
O one who prolongs and delays, how long,
Shall I demand a promise that is never fulfilled?
Every time I walk in your obligations,
I am like a falcon, racing in your pursuits.
We have settled some of what was promised,
So fulfill what remains for us,
And let us be content with silver, whether as a gift,
Or, if you wish, as a loan.
With cheeks that glisten like moist pearls,
Or as if the tender nymphs swayed gracefully.
I did not retreat from the bonds of connection, even if you presented,
A hardness and contempt towards me.
A Poem by Al-Mutanabbi: “Did the Watchers Gauge Your Height?”
Did the watchers measure your beauty in the night,
As you brought light from darkness?
There is pain in the beautiful essence that once shrouded you,
And your stride during the night is bright.
I grieve for my grief, which you misguided me from,
As it brings nothing but obscurity upon me.
And my complaints of illness are real,
For once I was whole and healthy.
Your eye symbolizes my wounds,
And both shine when viewed closely.
It struck me like a bitter arrow,
And perhaps I will become bathed in its burn.
I am but a rock in a valley when waves surge,
And when I speak, my words are akin to flowing water.
And if I conceal myself from the ignorant, it is understandable,
That they cannot behold a sight unseeing.
In the nights’ traits, may I be tested with your camel,
To achieve a destination, or become lost in the wilderness.
Between my father Ali and me lies a comparison,
The summits of mountains, and like them is hope.
And the punishment of Lebanon, could it be cut,
While its winter resembles their summer?
It dressed in white along my paths,
Until it appeared black from its pure snow.
Just like the noble one, when residing in a land,
Richness flows overwrought, and there flows water.
Even when the arrival freezes, if it were as you witness,
It would be confounded, but the elements would not disturb it.
Every line contains a desire from every heart,
Until it resembles the ink of emotions.
Every eye yearns to be near,
Until sunset casts its light.
A guide in actions may not guide,
In words until poets engage in their verses.
Every day expresses its rhythms,
Within its heart, and to the ear, it draws.
A provocation for all it holds, as if,
In every verse lies a legion of valor.
He who wrongs the unjust in their obligations,
Will wake to see they are equal to him.
And we adorn them, by them we recognize their virtue,
And by contrast everything is made clear.
His benefit in attacking and his detriment,
In leaving them to see as the enemies do.
For peace breaks from the wings of his wealth,
By his generosity, even in the throes of conflict.
He gives, and one sees from his benevolence the bounty,
And one sees, by his visions, many opinions.
Relating two flavors to gather more strength,
Indeed, he represents both joy and despair.
It’s as if he is not what his adversaries wish for,
Representing affluence and hospitality.
O noble one, your spirit shrouds you,
And it will not beg for anything.
Praise your fortune, for you have suffered loss,
So, relinquish what they did not give.
Death is not as frequent as scarcity,
Unless the living endure in your sorrow.
And the heart does not skip a beat for what is hidden,
Until bitterness settles like resentment upon you.
You were not named, O Haroun, except after
Delegation and contention for your name among names.
Thus, your name within you is singular,
And among the people, all are treated equally.
Thus, did you encompass even the densest of thought,
And fortify your praise and participate.
And you gave until you nearly withheld the means,
For the end is that which brings pleasure.
You initiated something whose start is unknown,
And prepared until introduction was lost.
Pride in you shines without measure,
And glory cannot be added to.
If you are ever asked, do not fear whether you need,
And if you conceal it, light would be your hiding place.
And if you are praised, do not expect an elevation,
For gratitude to God is its own glory.
And if you are showered with gifts, do not think,
That abundance will drench those who yield.
You haven’t recounted your bounty, however,
It seems to have been earned with effort.
Your luminous face has not touched our daytime,
Except in a way devoid of shame.
So, by whichever foot you tread towards greatness,
The crescent moon follows your footsteps.
Your time is a shield against time’s trials,
And your heart will redeem you from loss.
Had it not been for this populace, who derived from you,
They would indeed have barren outcomes from Eve’s offspring.
A Poem by Ibrahim Al-Aswad
Prince of pride and ancient glory,
The unique one of time with generosity and existence.
Your lofty words are sweet to the lips,
And to the listener, they are more pleasing than praise.
Had they composed it as a literary adornment,
It would dazzle beautiful maidens more than a unique necklace.
The melody captures me so completely,
After experiencing its sweetness, I am refreshed.
And it is not an untruth I have seen, but
The reality that I later dreamt of was fulfilled.
It came with blessings carried by the day,
Indeed more radiant than any happy day.
It was more delightful to my heart and more appealing,
Than the sounds of the lute to my ear.
So, I said, “Commander of Lebanon, find joy
In the kindness that flows from within.”
Settle where you may, and it will come,
And you will reap even more.
And the parliament shall prosper if your kin,
Seek advice from you with sound judgment.
Your fortune in a noble residence shall be,
Certainly my dear, as another proud moment.
You will bequeath this position to one bright,
With wisdom and a strong resolve.
And he shall replicate the path of your forefather,
Running in his footsteps till he reaches his lineage.
For your ancestor bore great goodness,
None can rival your descendant.
Your father was a strength without weakness,
Flexible even as iron seemed hard.
And you are the blessed heir,
Your position is one of evidence and witness.
So, live reaching the heights of pride,
Striving like stars in the vast sky.