The Essence of Love
Love is the highest form of human emotion. It is that delicate feeling that touches the heart, transforming individuals into happier, more joyous people. Love equips us to endure the hardships of life, and how beautiful it is when a lover finds someone who reciprocates that feeling with sincerity and dedication. Here, we present a collection of the sweetest expressions of love.
Heartfelt Expressions of Love
- Doubt acts as an axe against the tree of love.
- A man’s worries are many, with the greatest being the separation from a woman he loves.
- Between love and hate lies a thread of smoke, easily severed by a gentle breeze.
- Take your time in choosing a beloved, and do not rush in letting go of them.
- Ambition is like love; neither can tolerate competition or delay.
- Three things must never be concealed: love, acknowledgment, and truth.
- A woman’s true love for you is proven by how she mirrors your actions.
- It is unjust to label love as a fire, for human love does not turn to ash.
- The woman chooses the man who will choose her.
- Love is like a vessel; if it carries more than one, it sinks.
- True devotion consists of three traits: cherishing the words of your beloved over others, preferring their company, and prioritizing their happiness above all.
- A lover who weeps and laments can drive a woman away from love; if you wish to draw her closer, strive to bring her joy, for a woman’s heart resembles that of a playful child.
- Once a woman loves, that love becomes a religion, worshiping her beloved as a deity.
- Love begins with a word and often ends in shock.
Poetic Verses about Love
Poem: “Love Does Not Silence Us”
This poem, titled “Love Does Not Silence Us,” is penned by the esteemed poet Al-Mutanabbi, whose full name is Ahmad ibn al-Husayn ibn al-Hassan Al-Ja’afi al-Kufi al-Kindi, also known as Abu al-Tayyib. He was born in Kufa, grew up in the Levant, and later traveled to the desert to seek knowledge in Arabic language and literature. Al-Mutanabbi is considered one of the wisest poets and a pride of Arabic literature.
الحُبُّ ما مَنَعَ الكَلامَ الألْسُنَا
وألَذُّ شَكْوَى عاشِقٍ ما أعْلَنَا
ليتَ الحَبيبَ الهاجري هَجْرَ
الكَرَى من غيرِ جُرْمٍ واصِلي صِلَةَ الضّنى
بِتْنَا ولَوْ حَلّيْتَنا لمْ تَدْرِ مَا
ألْوانُنَا ممّا اسْتُفِعْنَ تَلَوُّنَا
وتَوَقّدَتْ أنْفاسُنا حتى لَقَدْ
أشْفَقْتُ تَحْتَرِقُ العَواذِلُ بَينَنَا
أفْدي المُوَدِّعَةَ التي أتْبَعْتُهَا
نَظَراً فُرادَى بَينَ زَفْراتٍ ثُنَا
أنْكَرْتُ طارِقَةَ الحَوادِثِ مَرّةً ثُمّ
اعْتَرَفتُ بها فصارَتْ دَيْدَنَا
وقَطَعْتُ في الدّنْيا الفَلا ورَكائِبي
فيها وَوَقْتيّ الضّحَى والمَوْهِنَا
فوَقَفْتُ منها حيثُ أوْقَفَني النّدَى
وبَلَغْتُ من بَدْرِ بنِ عَمّارَ المُنى
لأبي الحُسَينِ جَداً يَضيقُ وِعاؤهُ
عَنْهُ ولَوْ كانَ الوِعاءُ الأزْمُنَا
وشَجاعَةٌ أغْناهُ عَنْها ذِكْرُها
ونَهَى الجَبَانَ حَديثُها أن يجُبنَا
نِيطَتْ حَمائِلُهُ بعاتِقِ مِحْرَبٍ
ما كَرّ قَطُّ وهَلْ يكُرُّ وما کنْثَنَى
فكأنّهُ والطّعْنُ منْ قُدّامِهِ
مُتَخَوِّفٌ مِنْ خَلفِهِ أنْ يُطْعَنَا
نَفَتِ التّوَهُّمَ عَنْهُ حِدّةُ ذِهْنِهِ
فقَضَى على غَيبِ الأمورِ تَيَقُّنَا
يَتَفَزّعُ الجَبّارُ مِنْ بَغَتاتِهِ
فَيَظَلّ في خَلَواتِهِ مُتَكَفِّنَا
أمْضَى إرادَتَهُ فَسَوْفَ لَهُ قَدٌ
واستَقرَبَ الأقصَى فَثَمّ لهُ هُنَا
يَجِدُ الحَديدَ على بَضاضةِ جِلْدِهِ
ثَوْباً أخَفَّ مِنَ الحَريرِ وألْيَنا
وأمَرُّ مِنْ فَقْدِ الأحِبّةِ عِندَهُ
فَقْدُ السّيُوفِ الفاقِداتِ الأجْفُنَا
لا يَستَكِنّ الرّعبُ بَينَ ضُلُوعِهِ
يَوْماً ولا الإحسانُ أنْ لا يُحْسِنَا
مُسْتَنْبِطٌ من عِلْمِهِ ما في غَدٍ
فكأنّ ما سيَكونُ فيهِ دُوِّنَا
تَتَقاصَرُ الأفهامُ عَنْ إدْراكِهِ
مِثْلَ الذي الأفْلاكُ فيهِ والدُّنَى
مَنْ لَيسَ مِنْ قَتْلاهُ من طُلَقائِهِ
مَنْ لَيسَ ممّنْ دانَ ممّنْ حُيِّنَا
لمّا قَفَلْتَ مِنَ السّواحِلِ نَحْوَنَا
Cَفَلَتْ إلَيْها وَحْشَةٌ من عِندِنا
أرِجَ الطّريقُ فَما مَرَرْتَ بمَوْضِعٍ
إلاّ أقامَ بهِ الشّذا مُسْتَوْطِنَا
لَوْ تَعْقِلُ الشّجَرُ التي قابَلْتَها
مَدّتْ مُحَيّيَةً إلَيكَ الأغْصُنَا
سَلَكَتْ تَماثيلَ القِبابِ الجِنُّ من
شَوْقٍ بها فأدَرْنَ فيكَ الأعْيُنَا
طَرِبَتْ مَراكِبُنَا فَخِلْنا أنّها
لَوْلا حَيَاءٌ عاقَها رَقَصَتْ بنا
أقْبَلْتَ تَبْسِمُ والجِيادُ عَوَابِسٌ
يَخْبُبْنَ بالحَلَقِ المُضاعَفِ والقَنَا
عَقَدَتْ سَنابِكُها عَلَيْها عِثْيَراً
لوْ تَبتَغي عَنَقاً عَلَيْهِ لأمْكَنَا
والأمْرُ أمرُكَ والقُلُوبُ خوافِقٌ
في مَوْقِفٍ بَينَ المَنيّةِ والمُنى
فعَجِبتْ حتّى ما عَجبتُ من الظُّبَى
ورأيْتُ حتّى ما رأيْتُ منَ السّنى
إنّي أراكَ منَ المَكارِمِ عَسكَراً
في عَسكَرٍ ومنَ المَعالي مَعْدِنَا
فَطَنَ الفُؤادُ لِما أتَيْتُ على النّوَى
ولِمَا تَرَكْتُ مَخافَةً أنْ تَفْطُنَا
أضحَى فِراقُكَ لي عَلَيْهِ عُقُوبَةً
لَيسَ الذي قاسَيْتُ منْهُ هَيّنَا
فاغْفِرْ فِدًى لكَ واحبُني مِنْ بعدها
لِتَخُصّني بِعَطِيّةٍ مِنْها أنَا
وَانْهَ المُشيرَ عَلَيكَ فيّ بِضِلّةٍ
فالحُرُّ مُمْتَحَنٌ بأوْلادِ الزّنَى
وإذا الفتى طَرَحَ الكَلامَ مُعَرِّضاً
في مجْلِسٍ أخذَ الكَلامَ اللَّذْ عَنى
ومَكايِدُ السّفَهاءِ واقِعَةٌ بهِمْ
وعَداوَةُ الشّعَراءِ بِئْسَ المُقْتَنى
لُعِنَتْ مُقارَنَةُ اللّئيمِ فإنّهَا
ضَيْفٌ يَجرُّ منَ النّدامةِ ضَيْفَنَا
غَضَبُ الحَسُودِ إذا لَقيتُكَ راضِياً
رُزْءٌ أخَفُّ عليّ مِنْ أنْ يُوزَنَا
أمسَى الذي أمْسَى برَبّكَ كافِراً
مِنْ غَيرِنا مَعَنا بفَضْلِكَ مُؤمِنَا
خَلَتِ البِلادُ منَ الغَزالَةِ لَيْلَها
فأعاضَهاكَ الله كَيْ لا تَحْزَنَا
Poem: “The Book of Love”
“The Book of Love” is a poem by Syrian poet Nizar Qabbani, born in the Al-Midan neighborhood of old Damascus in 1923. He studied law at the Syrian University and worked in the diplomatic service for many years. Qabbani has published over 35 poetry collections throughout his career, spanning more than half a century.
1
As long as you, my green canary
My sweetheart
Then, indeed, God is in the heavens
2
My beloved asks me
What is the difference between me and the heavens?
The difference between you both
Is that when you laugh, my dear
I forget the heavens
3
Love, my dear
Is a beautiful poem written on the moon
Love is drawn on all the leaves of trees
Love is engraved on
The feathers of birds and the drops of rain
But any woman in my country
If she loves a man
Is thrown with fifty stones
4
When I fell in love
I changed
The kingdom of heaven changed
Nighttime sleeps in my coat
And the sun rises from the west
5
Oh Lord, my heart is no longer enough
Because the one I love is worth the world
So place a new one in my chest
That fits the expanse of the world
6
You still ask me about my birthday
So record this, then, as what you don’t know
The date of your love for me is my birth date
7
If the genie emerged from its lamp
And said to me: I am at your service
You have one minute
To choose anything you want
From precious gems and emeralds
I would choose your eyes… without hesitation
8
With those two black eyes
Those two awake, rain-filled eyes
I ask my Lord for only two things
To protect those eyes
And to extend my days by two
So I can write a poem
About those two pearls
9
If you were at my level, my friend
I would throw away the jewels you have
And sell everything you possess
Just to sleep in your eyes
10
I complain to the heavens
I complain to the heavens
How could you, how could you, summarize
All the women in the universe?
11
Because the language of dictionaries has died
Because the language of letters has died
Because the language of novels has died
I want to discover a way of love
Where I can love you… without words.
12
I haven’t told them about you … but they
Have seen you bathing in my eyes
I’ve not spoken to them about you … but they
Have read you in my ink and on my pages
Love has a fragrance… it cannot
Help but waft from the peach orchards
13
I hate to love like others
I hate to write like others
I wish my mouth were a church
And my letters were bells
14
My pens have melted in your love
Of blue, red, and green
Until the words came to an end
I’ve hang my love for you on the bracelets of doves
And I didn’t know, my dear
That passion flies like doves
15
Count on the fingers of two hands what comes
First: my beloved, you
Second: my beloved, you
Third: my beloved, you
Fourth, fifth
Sixth, seventh
Eighth and ninth
Tenth… my beloved, you
16
Your love, O deep-eyed
Is a vision
A devotion
Your love is like death and rebirth
Hard to invoke twice
17
Twenty thousand women I loved
Twenty thousand women I tried
And when I met you, my beloved
I felt that now I had begun
18
I have reserved a room for two in the house of the moon
To spend the weekend there, my beloved
The hotels of the world do not please me
The hotel I wish to inhabit is the moon
But there, my beloved
They do not accept visitors who come without a woman
So will you come with me,
My moon… to the moon?
19
You will not escape from me, for I am destined for you
You will not flee from me… for God has sent me to you
So once, I emerge from the rabbit of your ears
And once, I emerge from the turquoise bracelets on your hands
And when summer comes, my beloved
I will swim like fish in the oceans of your eyes
20
If you had remembered every word
I uttered during those two years
If I could open the thousand messages… that
I wrote in two complete years
We would have soared like two doves in love
And the ring you wear on your left hand would hold two rings
21
Why… why… since you became my beloved
Does my ink light up, and my notebooks grow grass?
Things have changed since you loved me
And I have become like children, playing in the sun
And I’m not a prophet sent, but when I write about you,
I become a prophet…
Thoughts on Love
We are consumed by love, and the individuals we lose ourselves in are transient by nature; this is amusing yet it does not make us laugh, but rather weep and suffer as our intentions become obscured. We fall for people, while in reality, we are enamored with the meanings we project onto them.
Does one who never anticipates an early departure know that words do not wait? The words of love do not forgive two; one who harbors them out of arrogance or malice, and the one who unjustly did not grant the chance to express them.
Love can either be the remnant of something that was once immense and is now dwindling, or it may be a fragment of a future greatness yet to come. However, in the present, it scarcely satiates one’s desires, offering considerably less than what one had hoped for.