Poetry of Longing from the Poem “Oghalib Fiik Al-Shawq”
I struggle with longing for you, yet it overwhelms me.
I am amazed by this separation while the reunion captivates me.
Do days not misguide me by showing me
an enemy drifting away or a beloved coming closer?
And truly, Allah will see how little I hesitate
as the evening settles in the East, and then the West.
On the evening when the ones I care for most
are the ones I chose to be distant with,
and I find peace along the paths I usually avoid.
How much darkness of the night speaks to you
and tells that the denial of love is a lie?
May you be shielded from the harm of enemies
that flow towards you,
and in that, someone charming and hidden comes to see you.
And one day, like the night of lovers, I lay in wait,
watching for the sun to set. I look for moments to pass,
and my eyes focus on the alluring presence
that remains between my eyes and my heart.
It possesses grace beyond its physical form.
It arrives on a broad chest and departs.
I split through the darkness, seeking his contact,
as it overwhelms, and I long for it repeatedly.
And I shall topple any creature that stands against him,
and I shall withdraw from them as I conquer.
Yet horses are mere friends, scattered and few,
though abundant in the sight of one who does not try.
If you see only the beauty in their coats,
and their limbs, beauty will be absent from you.
God curse this world, a resting place for travelers,
for every distant worry brings suffering.
Alas, I wish to know if I could recite a poem,
so that I do not complain or feel remorse.
And there is something that keeps poetry away from me,
but my heart, O daughter of the tribes, is a wanderer.
The manners of Kafur, should I wish to praise him,
even if I do not, they compel me to write.
If a person leaves his family behind,
and turns to Kafur, he will not stray away.
A young man fills his actions with wisdom and skill,
and at times, miraculously he is angry then pleased.
When he strikes in battle with his fist,
I realize that in battle, the fist strikes.
His gifts increase greatly after delays,
and the spring rains wither away.
O father of musk, is there any value in the cup?
I’ve been singing for a while, while you drink.
You gifted me during our time together,
and my soul longs for what you desire.
If you do not burden me with a loss or office,
then your generosity adorns me, and your absence takes me.
Everyone at this feast smiles at their beloved,
while I weep for those I love and mourn.
I yearn for my family and long to meet them,
and where is the longing but a rare phoenix?
If it were not for the father of musk, or them,
you are sweeter in my heart and more precious.
And everyone who shows goodness is beloved,
and every place where noble things arise is esteemed.
Those who envy you could wish ill for you,
while the noble that traverse still exist.
And whatever they seek, if only they could escape,
to live via it, while the child turns gray.
If they sought the familiar, they would find that they are nullified.
And if those who bore grievances encounter you,
and their desires were greater and stern,
the promise of the lightning within innocents.
Their honor in battles and the truths that rest.
When they met your gaze, they would know strength.
And you alone raise and wield power with dignity.
Slay those who aim to jump to safety,
or risk losing the one who fears.
Never lacking amongst those you’d encounter in strength and vigor,
but those who face you are mightier and fiercer.
Your words hold true, and the glint of boldness gets passed down,
upon each branch stands the wise and righteous.
When you’ve taught others the best of speech,
on how to court and engage in promises.
It will elevate you beyond its attributed claims.
And which tribe deserves your grandeur?
No one but Mad’d bin Adnan would be worthy.
I was drawn to my beloved as I saw you,
longing to behold you and let my heart dance.
And my verses derive blame as they lack resolution,
as the road stretches long and I still search
for those words that remain unspoken.
For the sun rises until the East has none left,
and it sets until no light returns.
When I utter it, it has not ceased to reach him,
be it a lofty wall or a woven tent.
Poetry of Longing from the Poem “Lawla Al-Hawa”
My longing for you flows as my tears cascade.
And your brow gleams like the brightening lightning.
It is a joy to be spoiled by your affection,
and my desire, O spirit, is surely affirmed.
How many have scolded me for not knowing the delight
of a tear sparkling in a pebble of my eye?
What shall be if I come to you, carrying
my soul in my palm, leaving me defenseless?
If it weren’t for the love that has taken form in my heart,
my heart would not be torn in your hands.
Be my comfort, even if my passion becomes a pang,
in it you have accepted, even if my heart suffers.
There is no blame that the first lover bestows upon his beloved,
showing affection, from which in love he shall fray.
Poetry in the Dialect on Longing from the Poem “Izzal Awal”
Your call stirred longing within me like a surge.
My heart’s despair increased, lost in confusion.
Between joy and fear, longing and fire,
O cherished one, anguish amplifies my turmoil.
Waves of anguish play upon me, I falter,
torn between my yearning for you and my fading self.
A tide of nostalgia intensifies my love and determination,
while the waves from your shore drift my sail away.
O hidden love, consuming my secrets,
my spirit shatters with no one to heed.
Until nights filled with laughter shine bright,
with time’s mischief in a boundless ocean.
What could fate withhold—whether reunion or parting,
between hope and despair, I have faced the trials,
more than what was within my reach.
Poetry in the Dialect from the Poem “Rawweh Alay Min Layl Al-Ashwak Thalathin”
Relieve me from the thirty nights of yearning,
and let your arrival ease my tightness.
After the worries and the darkness of the night,
a luminescence of the phone lit my night.
Last night, I held onto an unwanted burden,
and now this light fills my house and my street.
Your call came timely, my heart in the moment,
guided me away from foolishness and straying.
Welcome, O voice seen through my eyes,
your sound paints the specters in my vision.
By my honor, O master of all beauties,
how can your voice take me? Return me to my place.
When you inquire about my affairs, I reply, “I am well,”
but I hide wounds that require cauterization.
It tires me that love remains a barrier between us,
and the community endures the distance.
Yet I remain in the fatigue of two,
and your weariness, precious one, is like a sip of water.
You are worth more than gold, and calm melts my heart,
do you command my eyes? Here, accept this gift.
Inside my heart, O essence of my soul, lies a couplet,
if you will depart before the prayer, for the prayer
and the echoed calls of those who answer.
In my heart lies something that is not nothing,
many things… but let me tell you two;
longing and love have brought me to life while I still breathe.
Poetry in the Dialect of Longing from the Poem “Nisf Al-Shahr”
Half of the month has passed, the nights drifted by.
I have not seen a comforting face for my eyes and mind,
that one for whom others are jealous.
And I suspect he, like me, feels the same.
He disappears from my sight and steps away,
afraid that our mutual presence would burden.
And I amuse myself with his absence, letting him be,
fearing that my insistence may frighten him away.
How often has he crossed my mind as I call upon him,
while my heart and soul engage in arguments.
Reunion no longer is desired the way it once was,
it is not useful when healing wounds of unfulfilled hopes.
If he does not come out of his own will, I do not want
to have him just for the sake of pleasantries.
Poetry in the Dialect from the Poem “Tajini Taif Ya Omri”
A vision of you comes to me, O my life, on the wings of longing.
I fear that if I blink, I may scatter the moment of your call.
My beloved, do not come to me with questions on where you are while I am racing to find you.
I wish for you to ask where you are, and with open eyes, I would search for you.
By God, I could not allow my heart to wander through thorny paths just to reach you.
And I would allow my shadows to precede me before they embrace your abode.
Only a moment for me to prepare, and in your eyes,
I wish to offer laughter that brightens the eyes.
They say, in my absence, the heart burns as your glow illuminates it.
My yearning, ignited by your warmth, sways me, but you possess my heart.
The tears have dried, let my eyes cry for you.
Shall I scatter tears for those who have departed, leaving me bereft?
It tires me to escape from the simplest of things; your every detail lingers.
It tires me to question the corners of my home about your every condition.
Even the yearning from the dawn of stories beckons to you.
While birds of joy flutter over the doors at your entrance.
Here, I sprout good mornings before you head out, and pray for your return.
And here, my evening glow greets you from the shape of your crescent moon.
From the night’s lullaby that promises warmth, my sentiments sing for you.
And from the morn that keeps me cloaked in sorrow from the hue of your absence.
How absurd it is for night to exist without you,
and morning to be incomplete without your shade.
I traveled here, offering my soul in pursuit,
only to grasp life through the glimpse of your love.
Tell me, what has separation done for your handkerchief?
It weeps colors as my visions escape to the coast of your tears.
My beloved, may the parting not bring you tears, nor shake your resolve,
I fear your tears could wash away my image from your memory.
Come close, I long to share tales of our days and lay my sorrows before you,
and free the clouds of grief, showering the longing of my heart before you.
Come closer, let me embrace all the burdens of our separation within you.
For a heart cannot be complete should it beat without you inside of it.
The tears have ceased from my eyes; I wish to express my grief through your stiffened gaze.
Yet I fear my tears may scatter the memories of your embrace.
Poetry in the Dialect from the Poem “Ishtaqtu Lak Bil-Ams”
I yearned for you yesterday, I am craving today,
and tomorrow, should I see you, my longing multiplies.
For you, love blossomed, and yearning grew,
and beneath my ribs, the passion ignited.
Poetry in the Dialect from the Poem “Ma Ansak”
Please believe me, that if I were to be absent a lifetime, I will never forget you.
Painting the beauty of love with my features, both yours and mine.
I beg you not to let me go; take all my lifetime with you.
Even if time were to turn against us, forcing distance upon us,
there’s certain that the clock shall pause to relive our appointed moment.