Love
Love is a profound emotion that originates from the heart, transporting individuals to a vibrant and beautiful world filled with joy. It resides within each person; without it, a mother would not nurture her child, nor would friends remain close. Love is the exquisite flower that thrives on loyalty, honesty, care, and tenderness. Throughout history, poets have sung its praises, expressing it with the sweetest words and most poignant phrases. This article aims to present some of the most beautiful poems about love penned by renowned poets.
Nizar Qabbani’s Poems on Love
Nizar Tawfiq Qabbani, born in the historic neighborhood of Midan al-Shahm in Damascus in 1923, commenced his poetry journey at the young age of sixteen. While studying at the Faculty of Law, he published his first collection of poetry titled “Qalat Li al-Samra” in 1944. He graduated from the National Scientific College in Damascus and later earned a law degree from the Syrian University in 1944. Qabbani composed numerous poignant love poems, among which are:
Poem: I Ask You to Depart
Let us part for a while…
For the goodness of this love, my dear
And for our own good…
Let us part for a while
As I wish for you to desire me more
I want you to dislike me just a little
For the sake of what we have…
Of cherished memories that were dear to us both…
For the sake of a magnificent love…
That is still engraved on our lips
Still etched upon our hands…
For the sake of what you have written to me…
Through letters that are grander than our lips…
For the sweetest love story of our lives,
I ask you to depart.
Let us part as lovers…
For the birds part ways in every season…
And the sun, my love…
Is at its finest when attempting to fade away.
Be in my life the uncertainty and the torment
Be once a legend…
Let us part, as we are still enamored…
Let us part, despite all the love and tenderness.
Through tears, my beloved,
I want you to see me
And through fire and smoke…
I still dream that you are mine…
Oh my knight and my prince
Yet I…
I fear my own feelings
I fear my emotions
I dread that we may grow weary of our yearnings
I fear our connection…
I fear our embrace…
For by the name of a magnificent love
That blossomed like spring in our depths…
That shone like the sun in our eyes
And by the name of the sweetest love story in our time,
I ask you to depart…
So that our love may remain beautiful…
So that it may last a long time…
I ask you to depart…
Poem: Love Without Boundaries
My lady:
You are the most important woman in my history
Before the year departs.
Now, you are the most crucial woman
After the dawn of this new year.
You are a woman I cannot measure in hours or days.
You are a woman…
Crafted from poetic fruits…
And the gold of dreams.
You are a woman who dwelled within my body
Long before time began.
You are the flower of all freedoms.
Just spelling your name…
Makes me the king of poetry…
And the pharaoh of words.
It is enough that a woman like you loves me…
For me to enter the annals of history…
And for flags to be raised in my honor.
My lady:
Do not flutter like a bird during festive times…
Nobody will change about me.
The river of love will not cease to flow.
My heart’s beat will not stop.
The pigeon of poetry will not cease to fly.
When love is immense…
And the beloved is a moon…
This love will never transform
Into a bundle of straw consumed by flames…
My lady:
Nothing fills my eyes
Not the lights…
Not the decorations…
Not the bells of celebration…
Nor the Christmas trees.
The street means nothing to me.
The tavern means nothing to me.
No words matter
That may be penned upon greeting cards.
My lady:
I only remember your voice
When the church bells ring on Sundays.
I remember only your fragrance
As I sleep upon the herb’s parchment.
I remember only your face…
When the snow falls over my clothes…
And I hear the crackling of the firewood…
What delights me, my lady,
Is to curl up like a frightened bird
Among the gardens of eyelashes…
What fascinates me, my lady,
Is for you to gift me a pen from inkwells…
I embrace it…
And sleep joyfully like a child…
My lady:
How happy I am in my exile
As I squeeze out the essence of poetry…
And drink from the wine of monks…
How strong I am…
When I become a friend
To freedom and to humanity…
You are my first love.
You are my first mother.
You are my first womb.
You are my first passion.
You are my lifebuoy in times of flood…
My lady:
Oh, mistress of the first poetry
Extend your right hand so I may seek shelter…
Extend your left hand…
So I may dwell within it…
Say any phrase of love
So that the festivities may commence…
A Short Love Letter
My beloved, there is so much I wish to say…
Where should I begin, my darling?
Everything about you is royal…
O you who weave my verses
Into silk threads…
These are my songs, and this is I
Embraced within this small book…
Tomorrow, when you flip through its pages
And a lantern longs and sings on the bed…
The letters, yearning for you, will bloom
And the intervals nearly soar away.
So do not say: oh, what a boy
He spoke about me in his turn.
About the almond blossoms and tulips; I too
Shall traverse the world as I roam.
Whatever he says, no star
Is without the scent of my fragrance.
Tomorrow, people will see me in his poem
With a dream-like face and short verses.
Let their tales be… they will not be great
Except through my immense love for you.
What would the earth become without us
If your eyes did not exist… what would it become?
Poems About Love
The Most Beautiful Love Poem
The most beautiful love poem is by poet Mahmoud Darwish, one of the most prominent Palestinian poets. Born in 1942 in the village of Al-Birwa, Darwish fled to Lebanon at the age of seven. He later returned to Palestine, spending a brief period in the village of Deir al-Asad, located in the northern Galilee, where he completed his primary education. Mahmoud Darwish’s name became synonymous with poems about the lost homeland and the revolution. He composed the poem ‘The Most Beautiful Love’ in the following manner:
Just as grass sprouts between the cracks of stone
We were once strangers
And the spring sky composed a star… and another
I was composing a love verse…
For your eyes… I sang it!
Do your eyes know that I’ve waited long
As the summer waits for a bird
I slept… like a migratory bird
One eye sleeps to awaken the other… for a long time
And weeps for its sibling
We are lovers until the moon sleeps
We know that embraces and kisses
Are the sustenance of love’s nights
And that morning calls for my steps to continue
On the path of a new day!
We are friends who will see one another holding hands
Together, we create bread and songs
Why do we question this path… what fate
Does it lead us to?
And where do our footsteps come together?
For my share, and for yours, we walk…
Together forever
Why do we search for songs of weeping
In an old poetry collection?
And we ask: Oh our love! Will it endure?
I love you with the love of caravans, an oasis of grass and water
And the love of the poor for bread!
Just as grass sprouts between the cracks of stone
We found ourselves strangers one day
And we shall remain tender always.
Poem: My Reproachers, Do Not Reproach Me
The poem “My Reproachers, Do Not Reproach Me” is an ancient piece by the pre-Islamic poet Al-Samawal bin Ghareed bin ‘Adayam Al-Azdiy, a resident of Khaybar. One of his most famous works is the Lamiya, and in the poem My Reproachers, Do Not Reproach Me, he expressed:
My reproachers, do not reproach me
For I have defied many reproaches.
Leave me and guide me if I am misguided
And do not lead me astray as I have strayed.
Oh reproacher, you prolonged your censure until
If I were to heed it, I would have desisted.
And from the yellowed walls in the valleys,
They called me to unite, and I told her, “I refuse.”
And I have drunk from the cup of remorse,
I have poured and have drunk, and I have sipped.
Even if a youth were to weep
For a reproaching woman, I too would weep.
Oh house, at the heights, a house
If it weren’t for love for your people, I would not have come.
Oh house, your people promised me,
As if I had committed every sin of theirs.
If I miss the tender meat
I strike the arm of my youth and long for it.