Poem: The Pleasure of Speaking of Great Men
Written by Ahmad Faris al-Shidyaq:
The mention of great men brings sweetness to my words,
Not in the mention of delicate figures.
Men of politics, those who command and guide,
Wise individuals, like towering examples.
In the beginning, I spoke with grace,
Yet when I compared them, my words fell short.
For the one I aimed to praise stands alone,
Elevating in grandeur without a peer.
A minister, upon whom the king leans,
Offering insightful opinions with success.
When he desires something, he commands it,
Subduing even the hardest of challenges.
Each distraction he gathers, bringing near
The distant aspirations to each restored state.
His dark pens on the white pages,
Perform with the grace of lofty achievements.
All who oppose him bow in submission,
To the orders of determined intentions.
He governs a kingdom that stretches far,
And distinguishes with justice every right.
He builds homes for friends and allies,
While leaving the foes without surroundings.
He perceives outcomes unseen by others,
Sees in the events of the past and present.
For virtue is vast like the sea, knowledge is ink,
And for kings, a wise mind is paramount.
Lauded for noble traits and joyous attributes,
Unique in excellence, unparalleled in perfection.
Blessed is he who has goodness bestowed upon him,
And is exempt from human flaws.
For he is not dazzled by power or might,
Nor is he swayed by wealth or long-standing position.
Though challenges arise, should a prince challenge him,
It is but an illusion of glamour.
Inquire about warfare, if you like,
Peace, indeed, is a mutual desire.
Has not the time arrived for the Romans to see,
What his thoughts uncover in the night?
Has there not been enough warnings in his reprimands,
To alert them regarding their possessions?
Has there not been good tidings in his glad tidings,
Guaranteeing safety for the vulnerable?
He offers them refuge in secure abodes,
For self, wealth, and lineage.
Do they not have what we cherish for them,
Except for the benefits we bestow on all rulers?
After this discourse, is there still argument,
Foolish controversy, a call to debate?
What benefit is there in deception without goodness?
How often do you evade the truth like a snake?
At times you declare, we are enemies,
And at other times, you proclaim, we are allies.
How long will you demand from us matters,
And propose unattainable rewards?
Were you men and we women,
Carrying betrayal and fraud against you?
Indeed, what you claim is most regrettable,
And it is nothing but a pathway to blindness.
Obey the caliph truthfully and beware,
For his swords are deadly and fierce.
When wielded by determined commanders,
They achieve what was previously unimaginable.
Swift deaths will whirl around you,
With destiny unfurling like a millstone.
Is it not for Abdul Aziz, king of kings,
To command legions as vast as the sands?
If he calls to his subjects, they respond,
Proclaiming, “Here we are for battle!”
He is a caliph answering to the lord of all,
Generous, even before requests are made.
He is compassionate to the distressed seeking shelter,
Yet stern towards those who are treacherous.
May God grant him a mighty victory,
Over every aggressor aspiring for war.
It is better for you to be as your forefathers,
In the everlasting shade of his protection.
For beyond him, none remain loyal,
Let not sweet words seduce you otherwise.
He is your only refuge in peril,
Even if you were positioned on the highest mountains.
None will protect you save him,
For there are no shelters beyond him.
Let not the deceiver lead you astray,
Come forth to what he invites you to.
It is but a clear path to obedience,
And you will find safety in him.
A life filled with peace and blissful circumstances.
How many times has he declared, “I am the ally,”
When the Cross bore down against the Crescent?
Why do you not heed his words of wisdom,
Or take guidance from his counsel?
The noblest of rulers in rank and esteem,
And the most generous among those who give.
He is the kindest towards his people, a soothing companion,
And the most forgiving towards wrongdoers.
For those seeking his favor find blessings,
And those resisting it face consequences.
Count the praises sung in his regard,
As stars of fortune that never fade.
His protection is where travelers rest,
His honor is wealth unimaginable.
Is there a kingdom comparably great in the south,
Or in the east, west, or north?
Is there another like him, glorious in repute,
Respected even in his majesty?
He commands respect above the throne, with grace,
And on days of granting and struggles.
May God strengthen him in secrecy and openly,
Granting him triumph with his shining swords.
And may his adversaries remain like dust scattered,
As the sun rises on his completeness.
Poem: Glory to Him Who Created Men
Written by Muhammad Mahdi al-Jawahiri:
Glory be to Him who created men, yet found none,
Worthy of respect among them.
There remains the one, ever unyielding in his affairs,
Be it tyrannical, greedy, or foolish.
My homeland, your sole issue is souls consumed,
So who shall quench your thirst?
The plight of nations deceivers claim,
When confession has shattered their acts.
Now they seek to break their shackles,
After the calamity and constraints have settled.
O my country, who can elevate you again,
After the summit has resisted ascent?
No eye beholds the dawn of your peace,
For lovers or daydreamers mourning at night.
Your gardens stretch forth in bloom,
And your waters are pure for sipping.
Is it then the Tigris, in delight soaring,
Flowing and gentle as sweet dew?
It flows with the winds, but, alas, it struggles,
As strands of water become dammed.
And the weary look upon its banks in sorrow,
Seeming to rise from a constricted chest.
Is your fulfillment to overfill and lament,
Or to overflow and drown your moorlands?
If only the trees knew what has befallen,
The agony you have experienced has taken root.
Return now to emptiness, a parched hand that cannot hold on,
And you remain, O abode of treasures, impoverished.
This harshness you possess now overcomes your gentility,
That you may come to pity when in control.
What is my plight confronting the sudden vicissitudes,
For I have repeatedly asked God not to arrive.
When men resolve their limits,
They are like stars that brighten at dawn.
A parable from past nations that endured,
An “Arab” once sought reparation and succeeded.
He succumbed to the multitude of quarrels but could not,
Break their unity until they were divided.
Take this as an example for following his path,
For he manifested the way to survival.
Poem: The Men Have Perished
Written by Abu al-Aswad al-Du’ali:
The men who were exemplary have perished,
While the deniers refute every wrong.
And I remain surrounded by followers who will validate,
Some of them, to truly defend the disheartened.
He is wise to every misfortune in his wealth,
But if his honor is attacked, he remains unaware.
Poem: The Pride of Men is Chains and Bonds
Written by Antar ibn Shaddad:
The pride of men lies in chains and bonds,
As do women beneath cloaks and rings.
And when the hoofbeats of steeds raise their dust,
It intoxicates the senses, not merely for the grapes.
O Time! Do not linger upon me, for the end is nigh,
What I sought and desired is finally here.
For death awaits me after Abla, bringing comfort,
And life after parting from her is anguish.
O Abla! The hour has come, so mourn for me,
If your eyelids flow with tears.
O Abla! If they shed my blood, my story shall,
Live on in daily remembrance among folks.
Woe unto you if you remain a captive,
Calling for Antar, while he is far away!
I confronted the Persians, daughter of Malik,
And their repeated clamor made the desert narrow.
Yet they surged like sea waves, but found,
Only lions with iron upon their heads.
We were wronged; we ruled by the swords between us,
And it concluded while the tips of the spears stood witness.
O Abla! How many legions did I scatter,
With the skies darkened and mountains trembling?
Time beset me with a forced yield,
Yet it sways at times and rewards at others.
Glory to God for What has Occurred
Written by Abu al-Hasan al-Jurjani:
Glory be to God for what has transpired,
For consolation comes to the noble.
A discerning nobleman, when faced with a calamity,
After hardship, will find solace.
This is what the events of time have revealed,
Not a relic does remain or treasure.
In pursuit, the caliphate openly declared,
And destroyed its pillars and its stability.
Long ago, they wiped out Jadis and Tasm,
Driving them into their graves hastily.
Perceive their dwellings; can you spot one,
From them that could hear a whisper?
Gone is their insight—hold fast and endure,
In tribulation, the noble are always on standby.
As the like of these, hearts are entwined with treppinging,
While sighs of deep sorrow arise amidst the grieving.
None would submit lightly to indulgence or disdain,
Nor would they retreat with aversion or unrest.
How many days have I seen among those,
Whom they pursue, and they move with rebuke?
And as the eyes connect with his,
When he dances under the sun’s glimmer.
You see him teasing your view until,
You suspect the eye is quaking.
So be it—if he transforms by day or night,
Or cascades down or ascends high.
And, as though the racecourse draws forth,
His form shines through the water, glistening.
The wild creatures have fled from him, yet,
Among them he appeared, offering no sanctuary.
How many gazelles fell beneath the hunt of rival,
Indeed he drew their ire and was celebrated.
All that time bends to them what they pursue,
So may it assist the exalted knights as royalty.
And if you find despair in the depths of pangs,
A prickling in the heart and soul alike.
Recall the past to a time where he was known,
Remember when he relished praise and honor.
Where are the warriors, Dahi and Duhis,
Whose fate dealt out with time’s haste?
Gathering storms emboldened the destined,
Slashing at the foes—famine and fray.
They outshone the noblemen of ages,
And piercing loyalty reverberated loudly.
So praise God, for being lesser than all that,
As the grieving have lamented, we have not fallen short.
We have both mourned abundantly; bliss is,
Ample, and justly rewarded with recognition.
And in fairness, the noble, Abu Ay,
Must be rewarded for what we have given.
Your Voice Resounds with Longing
Written by Abu Zubayd al-Atai:
O, if only I could hear news to narrate,
How my heart mourned, and my devices failed!
About a man whom God graces with honor,
I rejoice while others are far from mirth.
Indeed, the young master is dear to me,
Worthy of sincere affection and counsel.
Indeed, should a person bestow upon me their friendship,
While distancing from another, it remains unforgotten.
He looked after me, brought me close, and honored me,
Against foes by winning battles unearned.
He rallied people for me, unconcerned,
Until they rallied against a common cause.
My life is the price for my father, who has little of it,
O, Umm Amr, grant me a boon today or ease my way.
O People of Jiron, Is There No Evening for You?
Written by al-Wasani:
O people of Jiron, do you not hear tidings,
When the stars of Aries stand still?
In the saline places like gardens blooming,
The Pleiades rising amid rain.
Or like patterns of chains hanging in the sky,
With soft breezes and gentle breezes?
The voice enchants listeners, a melodious song,
Enchanting in both pitch and mood.
I stood at my door at dawn,
Awaiting the morning walker to kindle the flame.
The night seemed long with a purpose in hand,
Even as stars stood unmoving.
Then came a figure in the dark, robust like a
Broad-shouldered elephant, strong in stature.