Overwhelming Longing
- The poet Al-Mutanabbi expresses:
I struggle against the longing for you, but longing prevails.
And I am more astonished by the distance than by the presence.
Do the days not err by making me perceive
A foe kept at a distance, or a beloved drawing near?
By God, how little I linger on my path
When I traverse the eastern and western ways at dusk.
On that evening, the very ones I turned away from
Were the ones guiding my path, which I tried to avoid.
How often in the darkness of night do I encounter hands
That inform me of the lies of fate.
May you be shielded from the destruction of enemies,
While the ones of charm and allure visit you.
On one day, like the night of lovers, I lay in wait,
Observing when the sun will set.
And my eyes, towards the charming ones, appear as if
A star remains amid their gaze through the night.
He possesses a grace that departs from his body
As it comes upon a vast chest and then fades away.
I have split the darkness with it; its reins I draw
As it dominates while I release it repeatedly.
And I wonder which wild beast I have chased with it;
I could descend from it as if a counterpart would ride it.
And horses are but like friends; they are few,
Even if countless in the eyes of one who does not experience.
Should you not see beyond their beauty and stature,
Then beauty, too, is concealed from you.
May the wrath of this world be destined for those riding,
For every distant worry torments them.
Oh, if only I knew whether to recite a poem,
In which I neither complain nor rebuke.
And within me, what drives poetry from me is lessened,
But my heart, O daughter of the people, remains troubled.
And the qualities of Kafur, if I choose to praise him,
And if not, they will compel me to write.
If a man leaves his family behind
And heads towards Kafur, he does not become a stranger.
A youth fills his deeds with wisdom and insight,
And rarely does he become pleased or angry.
If he strikes in war with his sword,
It becomes evident that the sword marks with the hand.
His gifts increase as he lingers longer,
And the clouds’ waters remain abundant yet eventually dry.
O father of musk, is there a favor in the cup I might achieve?
For I have been singing for quite some time, and you drink.
You have granted, according to my capacity and our times,
And my soul seeks according to your presence.
If you do not bestow upon me a position or authority,
Then your generosity dresses me while your occupation robs me.
Everyone laughs with their loved ones at this feast,
While I weep for those I love and lament.
I long for my family and desire to see them,
Yet where can the longing find a place?
And if Kafur is all there is,
For you, dear, are the sweetest in my heart and the most delightful.
And every individual that turns to kindness is beloved,
And every place that nurtures honor is pure.
Indeed, those who envy you desire what God prevents,
While the dark evenings and the chilled iron persist.
The Poem of Returning Yearning
- Poet Ali Mahmoud Taha writes:
Calm yourself, O urges of longing in my heart,
For you hold no power to bring back the past.
Ah, how impossible it is for it to return, even if I spent
My life in burning desire.
Ah, how impossible it is to return, even if you melted
My heart with yearning and tears.
So calm down now, O turbulent rebellion,
Strong enough to crush the ribs.
O mercy, O urges of longing, if you called,
The past would not be heard at all.
My heart closes itself with a thousand veils,
With tears like flowing streams.
O mercy, O urges of longing, if you devised,
The passion would not resurrect, I cannot.
How can a flower live again in a pot
When it remains captive in the grip of life?
O mercy, O urges of longing within my heart,
For it cannot bear the aftereffects.
If you loved him, let him be,
Peaceful with slumber, content and satisfied.
Forget the nations, or be healed and come,
To sit in silence around him, in humility.
Or, let yourself be in his dreams with flowers and melodies,
Wine and a bride with flickering candles.
A Poem: Close to You Even in Absence
- Poet Yasser Al-Atrash reflects:
It is another cycle,
And we become capable of getting used to sadness.
We fall in love with our despair, waiting behind the door for absence.
Our bodies are sand, piled up by the winds on the pavement.
So kiss me, before a new generation rises over our names.
The sea is not ours,
But the tremor of our faces in the water is a verse.
And now, prayer drifts away to its ports,
And your voice stabs with fear, breaking me.
I know that this night—the one after you—is a portrait of death,
Drawn by sleep on our eyes,
To reassure us of its massacres.
And I realize that I lost my mother within you, and my homeland has died.
So walk majestically over my dreams,
Plant me in your eyes,
So I can truly be myself,
Or at least, try to be.
I do not love people after you,
I neither live nor die nor attempt anything.
If you are absent, I too am absent,
And if you rise, I become marvelous bread.
Why does water give us life then,
When your beauty, in nourishing the earth,
Causes the ears of grain to flourish?
A Poem: In Absence, I Send My Soul
- Poet Abu Al-Huda Al-Sayyadi shares:
In absence, I sent my soul
To the presence where I have esteemed watching.
When it reached the threshold of your dominion,
The earth greeted on my behalf, for she is my representative.
This gathering of spirits has come,
Present in a state of absence.
Seeking a noble messenger from you,
Extend your right hand, that my lips may be blessed.
A Poem: I See No One But You in My Thoughts
- Poet Ibn Al-Farid declares:
I see no one in my thoughts but you,
Even if dangers converge upon my weary body.
Ah, but what pleasure there is in illness by your side,
Obeying the commands of my longing while defying my reproachful tormentors.
Oh, how sweet is the humiliation in the honor of your connection,
Even if difficult, how delightful is the disintegration of my limbs.
You have distanced yourself, and my plight without you remains barren,
And this reality does not distress you but rather delights you.
I was tested when I endured yearning,
For my yearning bore fruit.
I have established the vision with the closing of my eyes,
To lure the phantom; an endeavor for the deceiver.
It did not aid me in veiling my heart, but rather has forced tears
To pour unceasingly down.
O my soul, dissolve in grief for the loss of my joy,
To endure the journeys of my hopes and the pain of my anguish.
Take care, do not shed tears for a joy that has departed,
For all that flowed from my blood as the tears, witnessing amongst ruins.
And who can satisfy the beloved, even if the cries grow louder,
While my state of decline becomes a curse I cannot bear.
And my involvement in love for him brings me pain,
Although I would suffer much for him eternally.
I’ve endured, and although consumed by love for him,
I remain steeped in melancholy and solitude.
May God protect the dwelling that I still linger in its lands,
As I immerse in my feelings; say it duration.
And greetings to the countenance that continues to persist,
Reiterating the memories of conversations with the beloved.
It narrates traditions within me, so let my voice rise,
And guide my being through the echoes.