Initiating a Conversation with a Beloved
By Abdullah Al-Kaswani … A retired lover reflecting on: A conversation with my enamored friend:
In the realm of literature, “The Dove’s Ring” by Ibn Hazm of Andalusia stands as one of the earliest and arguably the most profound works, addressing every conceivable form of love and the emotional struggles of those in love, depicted with deep psychological insight that one might think Sigmund Freud had studied under him.
As a humble admirer, I have dared to expand upon his ideas in light of contemporary developments, though I acknowledge that my additions are but a drop in the ocean of his thoughts and conclusions.
Having delved into this rather challenging text, with its intricate vocabulary and profound meanings, I must express that your current emotional state appears to me as an open book.
I can foresee how your situation will develop, as if I am the screenwriter of your story. I do not wish to infringe upon the nobility of your mystery; indeed, you are too exalted for me to feign otherwise.
Thus, succinctly put, I am deeply reassured regarding your well-being, even if you are engulfed by waves of frustration, despair, and fatigue stemming from past memories—natural tsunamis, if you will.
All of this shall pass, whether you resist or yield; it shall dissipate as its time shall expire, just like your situation. I recall a chemistry professor from my past in Ramallah named George Mughannam, who once explained that a cold would take five days to heal without antibiotics, and equally, five days if treated with them.
The essence of my message has likely reached your insightful mind even before I recounted the story of Professor George. As a piece of advice, I strongly recommend against reading “The Dove’s Ring” in your current circumstances, as each time I have fallen in love, it has only deepened my disillusionment.
Confessing Love to a Beloved
Whenever I fall in love, I transform into the unique madman of my time, just as reckless and tormented as any other lover. I would return to “The Dove’s Ring,” seeking wisdom, yet it only heightened my frustration.
Much like a seasoned psychologist, over time, the gap between him and his patients diminishes (except for the fortunate few, and there are many); do not take the risk of reading it, I warn you earnestly.
Trust me, we will reunite in two months, and you will share joyous news with me: “Abdullah, my friend, can you believe it? I am in love, and this time, I will introduce you to him.” I am confident in this outcome… and once again, please forget about “The Dove’s Ring” by the brilliant Ibn Hazm of Andalusia.
A slightly embarrassing note: I plan to publish what I have written above on my personal page after making minor adjustments to the constructions of the pronouns.
A Message to Lovers
A gentle reminder: If any of you are without sin (if we consider love a sin), let him cast the first stone at me, and at the billion lovers still yearning for love in this very moment—some are in torment, while others rejoice.
A Love Poem
An obligatory apology: As you can see, I have not altered the constructs of the pronouns or reformulated the text, for this is my sincere expression. Oh Lord, extend your hand to every weak and oppressed soul, and sustain the strength of all kind-hearted giants.
By Abdullah Al-Kaswani, for journalist and poet Faboula Badawi
For it is morning, the sky smiles,
For it is morning, song takes flight,
For everyone taking a step forward,
For everyone who loves the bird of peace,
The paths journey on with heartbeats,
For it is morning,
Nothing remains in time,
But safety,
For every child and woman,
For every lover,
For a flower I named humanity,
Because it embodies nations,
Beloved of the freedom of space,
Beloved of the freedom of humankind,
Let sorrows fall,
And let it be written in the melody of the string,
That I love him with utmost madness,
And let it be inscribed in the whisper of rain,
That I live with him, embracing him,
In every tender tone of mine,
For it is rebellion, it is fire,
And a revolution that refuses tyranny,
For it is humanity,
And the sky smiles,
For it is morning,
And song dances,
For it is morning,
The imprint…
Engraved is your madness upon my forehead,
Your face etched upon the water,
Among the stones,
And inscribed,
In the bullet of my illusion and certainty,
Your love extends and reaches me,
An epic of passion travels,
Emerging from the depths of forests,
And from the thickets of the heart,
It folds the earth with verses,
Of wild whispers,
To lose my certainty in your eyes,
And I establish my prayer in your sanctuary,
My dreams cascade between your hands,
Letters of longing,
Imprinted with the tattoo of your madness upon my chest,
My silence and dialogue,
A melody of my night,
My secrets,
Imprinted with the tattoo of your madness,
In light and in fire.