Verses of Romantic Poetry

I Bear Witness That There Is No Woman But You

I bear witness that there is no woman

Who has mastered the game except you.

And endured my foolishness

For ten years, just as you have.

You have tolerated my madness as you embraced

And manicured my nails

And organized my notebooks,

And enrolled me in kindergarten,

Except for you.

I bear witness that there is no woman

Who resembles me in thought and behavior like you,

In reason and madness, except you,

In swift boredom

And quick attachment,

Except for you.

I bear witness that no woman

Has taken from my attention

As much as you have;

That has colonized me as you did,

And liberated me as you have.

I bear witness that there is no woman

Who has treated me like a two-month-old child,

Except you.

You offered me the nectar of dreams

And flowers and toys,

Except for you.

I bear witness that there is no woman

Who has been as generous with me as the sea;

As refined as poetry,

And spoiled me as you did,

I bear witness that no woman

Has allowed my childhood

To extend into my fifties but you.

I bear witness that there is no woman

Who dares to say she is women except you,

And that in her navel lies

The center of this universe.

I bear witness that no woman

Is followed by trees when she walks

Except you,

And doves drinking from her icy waters

Except you.

And sheep grazing in the summer grass

Except you.

I bear witness that no woman

Has condensed the story of femininity

Into two words

And incited my masculinity against me,

Except you.

I bear witness that no woman

Has stopped time at her right breast

Except you,

And caused revolutions from the slope of her left breast,

Except you.

I bear witness that no woman

Has changed the laws of the world

Except you,

And altered

The map of permissible and forbidden

Except you.

I bear witness that no woman

Overwhelms me in moments of passion like an earthquake;

Burning me, drowning me,

Igniting me, extinguishing me,

Breaking me in two like a crescent,

I bear witness that no woman

Occupies my soul for the longest and happiest time,

Sowing me

With Damascus roses

And mint

And oranges.

O woman,

Leave my questions under her hair,

Yet never answering a question,

O woman who embodies all languages,

But she touches the mind without being spoken.

O You with the Sea-colored Eyes

O you with the sea-colored eyes,

And candle-like hands,

And an enchanting presence,

O you as radiant as silver,

And as smooth as crystal,

I bear witness that there is no woman

Upon the circumference of her waist

Where eras converge

And a thousand planets revolve,

I bear witness that there is no woman but you, my love,

Who raises the firstborn and the lastborn

In her arms.

O You Who Are Perceptive and Transparent

O you who are perceptive and justly beautiful,

O you who are sweet and splendid,

Forever childlike,

I bear witness that no woman has broken free from the control of the Cave Dwellers but you;

And shattered their idols,

And dispelled their illusions,

And toppled the authority of the Cave Dwellers, except you.

I bear witness that no woman

Has invited daggers of the tribe into her breast,

Considering my love for her

The essence of virtue.

O You Who Came Just as I Awaited

I bear witness that no woman

Came exactly as I awaited,

And her long hair is longer than I wished or dreamed.

And the shape of her breast

Is exactly as I planned or sketched.

I bear witness that no woman

Comes forth from the clouds of smoke if she smokes,

And flies like a white dove in my thoughts if I think,

O woman, I have written volumes about her as a whole,

But despite all my poetry,

You have remained more beautiful than all I have penned.

O You Who Exercised Love with Utter Grace

I bear witness that no woman

Exercised love with me in the utmost civility,

And lifted me from the dust of the Third World,

Except you.

I bear witness that no woman

Before you untangled my knots,

Cultivated my body,

And conversed with it like a lute,

I bear witness that there is no woman

But you.

But you.

But you.

Night’s Song

The night has settled, and in its tranquil robe

Dreams hide,

And the full moon walks, with eyes that watch the days.

Come, daughter of the field, let us visit

The vineyard of lovers,

Perhaps we can quench with that strong wine

The burning of longing.

Listen to the nightingale amidst the fields,

Pouring melodies

Into the space that has been touched by breezes of basil.

Do not fear, my girl, for the stars

Keep secrets,

And the fog of night in those vineyards

Hides the mysteries.

Do not fear, for the bride of the jinn in

Her enchanted cave

Has dozed off, intoxicated, about to disappear

From the eyes of the maidens.

If the lord of the jinn passes, he will leave

And passion may lead him astray,

For he, like me, is a lover; how can he reveal

What torments him!

And She Said, What Have You Found in Love?

And she said, what have you discovered in love?

I replied, death and fear in distance and closeness.

She said, I have known love to win its master,

With noble manners unattainable without love.

I replied, it was once love that grew

Fleeting, and thus I found myself in battle.

And I had a heart, and I was without desire,

And when I came to know love, I became heartless.

You Are Sweet as Childhood, as Dreams

You are sweet as childhood, as dreams,

Like a melody, like a new dawn,

Like the cheerful sky, like the moonlit night,

Like a rose, like the smile of an infant.

What gentleness and beauty she possesses,

And youthful grace that enchants!

What purity that rekindles the spirit of the desperate!

Oh, how delicate you are, as if the rose

Could flutter from within the rugged stone!

What are you? Are you Venus

Who dances once more among mortals?

To revive youth and sweet joy

For the sorrowful world!

Or are you an angel from paradise come to earth

To revive the spirit of enduring peace?

You, what are you? You are a beautiful portrait,

A genius from the art of existence.

Within you, there is a mystery and depth,

And a sacred beauty that is worshipped.

You, what are you? You are a dawn of enchantment

That has shown upon my heart’s baptism,

Revealing life through transcendent beauty,

And unveiling the secrets of eternity.

You are the spirit of spring, striding through

The world that shakes the delightful flowers,

And breathes life into the air with perfume,

And existence resounds with melodies.

Every time my eyes behold you walking

With steps signed like a hymn,

The heartbeat stirs to life and the roses flutter

In the garden of my barren existence.

My sorrowful soul sings love,

And its melody is like that of a daydream.

You revive in me what has perished

Of my joyful past, the beloved that is lost,

And you construct within the ruins of my spirit

What has faded in my indomitable past.

From ambition for beauty to the art

Of that faraway realm.

And you bestow the tenderness of longing and dreams,

And yearning and passion in my song

After the melancholy of my days

Embraced my heart and silenced my melodies.

You are the hymn of hymns; your song

Is the deity of sweet poetry.

In you, youth thrives, enchanted and rose-scented;

And passion’s melody and the perfume of flowers.

And beauty dances, swaying with divine grace

On the songs of existence.

Your essence billows into the horizon with musical tones,

As if to sway through existence like the melody of a genius.

Drunk steps overflow with hymns

And a voice that resonates like a distant reed.

A form that practically sings with melodies,

In every pause and moment of repose.

Everything is marked within you, even

The glance of beauty and the tremor of breasts.

You are, you are life in its holiest

And most enchanting manner.

You are, you are life in the elegance of

The dawn in the light of spring’s soul.

You are, you are life in every moment

In the freshness of new youth.

You are, you are life in your essence and in your eyes,

And in your eyes are verses of its enchanting expanse.

You are a world of songs and dreams,

Of magic and enduring imagination.

You are beyond imagination, poetry, and art

And above reason, above borders.

You are my sanctuary, my altar, my dawn,

My spring, my ecstasy, my eternity.

O daughter of light, I am alone

Who has seen in you the splendor of the divine.

Allow me to live in your sweet shade

And near your apparent beauty

A life of beauty, art, and inspiration,

And purity, brilliance, and devotion.

A life like that of a devoted monk who converses with his Lord

In a fervor of profound enchantment.

Grant me peace and joy, O illuminating light

Of my longed-for dawn.

Have mercy on me, for I have crumbled under

The burden of despair and darkness constructed.

Rescue me from my grief, for I have grown weary of living,

In the valleys of time and death, I walk

Under life’s load, a multitude of chains.

And I move among people, my spirit like a grave,

And my heart like a broken world.

There exists a moment of no conclusion and horror

Common in our extended lament.

And if the play of fate dismisses me,

I smile amidst the sorrow and stillness,

A bitter smile, as if I were divesting

Thorns from wilting roses.

Blow the merriment of life into my emotions,

And strengthen my resolve,

And breathe warmth into my blood, perhaps

I may yet sing with desires anew

And contribute resolutions to the melody of my heart

Like a nightingale, shackled in iron.

For the beautiful dawn invigorates with warmth

The shattered life of the crushed.

Rescue me, for I have grown tired of my darkness!

Rescue me, for I tire of my stillness.

Ah, O my beautiful flower, if you could only know

Of what has blossomed within my lonely heart!

In my strange heart, entire universes are created,

From magic of unique beauty,

And bright suns and stars

Sprinkle light in an endless space,

And a spring that feels like the poet’s dream

In the intoxication of blissful youth.

And gardens that know no darkness of night

And the impending revolution of autumn.

And magical birds harmonizing

With sweet songs of melody,

And palaces that seem as if they were the stained dusk

Or the new dawn’s rise.

And delicate clouds floating

Like the blossoms of roses.

And a life poetic, for me,

An image of the lives of the immortal.

All this is built by the enchantment of your eyes,

And the inspiration of your divine beauty.

And it is forbidden for you to destroy what

The goodness has forged in the esteemed heart.

And it is forbidden for you to crush the hope of a soul

Seeking a blessed life.

That yearns for happiness it has not found

In life’s design and the magic of existence.

For the great deity does not throw stones at the servant

When he is immersed in the splendor of devotion.

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