The Poem of Tears
As Mahmoud Darwish expresses:
There is no longing for a lost embrace,
No grief for a statue I have shattered,
No sorrow for a child I have buried.
I weep!
I know that tears are but a betrayal, a saltiness.
I am aware,
Yet the cry of melody persists.
Do not sprinkle your tissues with perfume,
I am not waking up, I am not waking up.
Allow my heart to weep!
There remains a thorn that still pricks my heart,
Dripping, dripping, my wound continues to bleed.
Where is the rosebud?
Is there rose in the blood?
O solace for the deceased!
Is there glory and honor left for us!
Let my heart lament!
Shield my ears from these monotonous fables.
I know more than you about humanity, in this strange land.
I have not sold my steeds, nor my flags of my tragic journey,
For I carry the stones and the illness of love,
And the strange sun.
I weep!
I depart before my time, prematurely.
Our lives are narrower than we are,
Our existence is smaller, smaller.
Is it true that death bears life?
Will I bear fruit
In the hand of the hungry, bread, and sugar in the mouths of children?
I weep!
The Poem of Tears That Reveal My Longing
As Ibn Daninair says:
The tears have revealed my longing and my concealment,
And my heart is perplexed in endurance and solace.
I faced my tears; so who consoled it,
On the day of parting and farewell, my flames?
I lament love while my heart relishes it,
And my circumstance that I shared with you.
You have left, yet I remain consumed by my feelings,
Haunted by my secrets and my confessions.
The distance burns me, and its fire
served as my furnace,
After the moment your message dampened my tears.
Had your arrow not struck my heart,
With its curves and bitterness,
If a vision visited me, I would have quelled my sorrows with it,
And if it enveloped my respite, it would accompany me.
Slumber did not touch my eyelids nor is it surprising
That after your separation, my heart turns desolate.
My secret cannot be concealed, as I was abandoned,
And I remain caught between my insides and my eyelids.
My eyes’ tears are free now, after your distance,
Yet my heart is still enraptured by your call.
Not tasted the sweetness of the lilac since you left,
Nor did my soul desire any other fragrance.
I bore from you the fragrant breeze,
That brushes past the lush grasses of Yabrin and Na’man.
I never imagined that despite the bitterness of time with us,
I would part with my beloved ones and companions.
O wanderers, my heart eternally yearns for them,
Guided by longing amidst your transience.
You have departed, and no joy remains for me,
Nor did I find solace within my homelands.
You bequeathed me a lingering shadow,
Echoing with the pain of separation, O blackened heart!
Whenever I remember you, the longing ignites in fervor,
The blaze of yearning recedes in the depths of my homeland.
If time has betrayed me in your absence, then allow it,
For it is inevitable when it seeks the noble through deprivation.
Or if its aim were to lower my status, I have raised,
The hands of virtue among the people have raised high.
I have risen amongst the most honorable of my morals,
With the best of the world’s seniors and youth.
And I have adorned this earth with virtue, unmatched by any,
However, sustenance was not attainable through proximity.
Until I grew close to Zaid, the generous, who embraced me,
And offered me solace in my despair and sadness.
I was rejoiced when my haven found its reflection,
In the best of people, with kind nature and good deeds.
And now I stand with a status that has elevated my feet,
To soar beyond the starry realms and beyond.
My paradise was not forged from his fields, nor the company of humans or jinn,
If both the denizens of Earth sought generosity from his hand,
It would indeed inspire awe yet leave them with no sovereign.
And if there were floods akin to Noah’s,
The sky would not aid them, but rather drown them.
Wealth has enriched the poor and the downtrodden, as their hopes have slumbered,
Awaiting his generous favor.
If this life impels me to mischievous happenings,
Poverty has not dimmed the radiant light of faith.
O son of the Prophet, you are my utmost desire,
Since restraint keeps me from wishing for anything else.
How can one measure life’s burdens when you pulled along,
The hem of the pride that is extended.
Even as you surpassed everyone, both humans and angels,
When you unified valor and grace.
For Haider and the pure-hearted Fatimah
Are lauded in a chapter of the Most Merciful, as two oceans.
They do not strive, yet from their depths,
They extract virtue from pearls and corals.
And if you seek praise of your qualities,
It can be found throughout various scriptures of divinity.
Indeed, if they claim you have parallels in resemblance,
Know that the night and dawn are not the same.
I have become the second to the revered Zain al-Abidin,
And none can ever be amongst the like of you,
As you taught me the scriptures of God effortlessly,
As I honored him by preserving his teachings.
And I stood for God while my eyelids were closed,
The darkness dispelled by prayer and the Quran.
I resembled your grandfather in both secrecy and declaration,
Yet I celebrated your virtues over all others,
As the challenges of poetry became easier.
To praise anyone else meant “enough of me,”
Woe unto me if I were to forget after my faith!
For I extolled your qualities with sincerity and love,
Which has sufficed me as I was adorned.
Where Can I Find Who Will Buy My Lamentations?
As Ibn Sanaa al-Malik states:
Who will buy my lamentations?
I add them to my sorrows.
I ignite them with fire,
Upon my anguished heart,
Which is my bewildered heart.
And deserving of colors
From separation and abandonment.
He neglected the branch of the bay tree,
And fell asleep, unaware of the return.
Like the actions of Radwan,
When he slept while in waiting.
He fled from rage,
As the children separated from him.
And my possession became desolate,
Thus, I remained sluggish in mourning,
For the lack and deprivation.
The neighbors stole it,
Even the crows snatched it away.
So weep with me, dear brothers,
As guardians left behind.
He was harsh when he used to be gentle,
Now every ending is lost.
Full of concerns and sorrows,
The depths are tormented.
He repented like every remorseful soul,
And the birds of the gardens await.
And they fell silent before the trees,
For eloquence has become silent.
That strong structure has collapsed;
Indeed, it is the homeland
That crumbles after its inhabitants.
And where, where is the solace?
And how, how does one forget?
I have no control over this dominion,
Nor allies in this endeavor.
But I possess two eyes,
That shed tears from my despair.
Glory be to my Lord, glorified be.
Creator of the basil branch,
That bears a thousand gardens,
From pure, abundant waters,
In which goodness abounds.
The full moon is envious,
And every day brings forth change,
With breathtaking beauty,
And gracefulness and benevolence,
Both companions of one another.
And his visage resembles faith,
A light and a proof must arise.
If the hypocrites deceived me,
My matters have dwindled.
Yet my heart betrays,
Ascending in the deeds of youths.
And selling out led me to loss.
I once was human,
But I departed, thirsty,
Like that heartbeat,
It did not originate to be.