Poem: O Maidens of Beauty, Love, and Dreams
- By the poet Abu Qasim al-Shabi:
O maidens of beauty, love, and dreams,
Oh, the splendor of this existence!
We have witnessed feelings cascading,
Adorned by the morning blooms’ charm.
We have seen the eyelids either smile or dream
With light, with passion, with song.
And we have noticed the cheeks, painted by enchantment,
Ah, the allure of those cheeks!
We have seen the lips bloom with a world
Of fresh roses under the tender light of hope.
Beautiful souls, like the forest birds,
Serenading with captivating melodies.
Pure like the fragrance of blooming flowers,
In the birth of the new spring.
Hearts aglow like the stars of the night,
Radiant, like tender blooms.
Are they shadows that resemble the night?
Or a terror that chills the newborn’s heart?
A whirlpool, surged with sin and disgrace,
And wickedness, and long shadows.
I cannot tell, perhaps a fragrant flower
Is deadly despite its evident beauty.
May God protect you from the darkness of the spirit
And from the shadow of the desiring conscience.
Indeed, the night of the souls is a terrifying night,
Endlessly sorrowful, a hideous eternity.
The heart bears bitter pain within it
And suffers from a wretched existence.
And the spring of youth withers it away,
Vanishing with the beauty that is revered.
Only the beauty of the spirit remains in this universe,
Fresh against the passage of time.
Poem: Do You Know You Are the Mother of Beauty?
- By Abdul Muti al-Dalati:
Do you know that you are a glad tidings for us,
And that you are goodness overflowing here?
Do you know that you are the source of life,
Traveling through time and nurturing the world?
Do you know that you are the mother of beauty,
And the daughter of grace, sister of radiance?
And when you donned the veil,
You ascended, you rose above the curve.
You concealed beauty, thus you attained majesty,
Your purity has announced its presence.
You nurtured manhood, mother of men,
You built, elevating the one who built.
You embraced childhood in its cradle,
And were the haven and home.
Your heart spreads warmth of affection,
And your hand wipes away our worries.
If you are pleased, life will be pleased,
And it will smile if you smile at us.
For you, the song has sung and the anthem has soared,
Fluttering around you until it drew near.
All letters migrate to you,
Seeking shelter with you.
Come, let us build the house of poetry,
With two halves: from you, and from me.
Come, let us pray to the God of existence,
To immerse our lifetimes in faith,
Because you are you, and I am I.
Life flows in abundance between us,
We have wronged you for ages; will you forgive?
If your kind heart will pardon the sinner?
Poem: By God, O Possessor of Exquisite Beauty
- By the poet Ali ibn al-Jahm:
By God, O possessor of exquisite beauty,
Do not sever the bond of the fervent lover.
God knows that I am in love with you,
Loving the caliphate of the confident imam.
Poem: Beauty Cast upon You a Spell of Enchantment
- By the poet Kahlil Gibran:
Beauty cast upon you a spell of enchantment,
So you became beloved by beauty’s will.
Even troubles melted towards you with affection.
Who thought troubles had hearts?
Poem: O My Murderer, a Charming Youth of Beauty
- By the poet Abu Firas al-Hamdani:
O my murderer, a charming youth of beauty,
Strange in love, yet articulate in grace.
Do not draw the sword of passion against me and call:
Oh, how they seek revenge from the uncles and the relatives!
How can I hope from one who sees revenge in me
As a trait of kindness or connection,
Since years have passed, and time has intervened
Between me and the territory of ancient memories?
O influencer, who provokes my kin’s grievances,
Despite the long nights that have buried them.
I was not one of their sorrowful ones, God knows,
And now, today, I set myself free.
Poem: The Woman and the Mirror
- By the poet Elia Abu Madi:
She stood before her mirror, contemplating,
Oblivious to the critics and the judges.
With every glance, she formed reflections
Of the shadows of the world, and she portrayed.
Among the beautiful maidens, she claims each charming face,
As though she were the keeper of wealth.
She becomes possessive if one is called lovely,
For suitors often delight in pleasing compliments.
So, she blushes in jealousy then reddens in ire,
As if fever grips her, coming and going.
And she hoards resentment towards the speaker, if he knew,
The poor man might become frail with grief.
Her resentment against those other maidens surfaces unbidden,
For the ire of fair ones is sharp and unyielding.
If by chance she found a maiden in this world,
She’d almost wish to turn the tide of time.
A girl, so magnificent like a peacock in splendor,
Yet not a tail, but rather a cascading hair.
She sought to monopolize all beauty within herself,
And many have tried to attain what they could not achieve.
But she is unaware that beauty is fleeting,
For it is but a flower awaiting its wilting.
Wise are the people who despise seeing
A captive to makeup, where time would soon exhale.
And every young man who settles for embellished beauty,
Is but an overconfident fool.
If beauty is to be considered a virtue,
Then the beauty of the soul surpasses it all.
But the names and titles of the fair ones are followed,
And all pleasing maidens do the same in their acts.
Had she not feared the anger of the men and acknowledged
The grudges of the women, she would have rescinded her claim.
She took her mirror as a guide for herself,
Whenever a matter rose or an issue confronted her.
There is not one complicated matter, and yet it seems
The weak-minded find a simple notion convoluted.
She conceals from one who understands, a secret
But unfurls what others may not fathom.
If the mirror could retain her shadow,
You would see with your eyes what you never knew.
And with her love, the passion of vanity strengthens,
For it is pleasing to the youth of our age.
They gathered until they appeared like puppets,
And they lacked but cosmetic embellishments.
The youth of today becomes an excuse in the art of display,
Causing strife among us women, which leads to defeat.
Should a beautiful one become cheapened, and justified,
She’d retreat and claim that all of you are casual.
Poem: My Beloved, You Are
- By the poet Yahya Tawfiq Hassan:
You are not a distant memory, nor am I a forgetful soul,
My state mirrors yours; please forgive and come.
In the silence of your night, desires bloom in
My heart, ripening upon the peaks of my fancy.
Your scent fills the darkness of my exile,
Invading my pulse, riding on my melancholy.
And while the wind howls, my sighs take flight,
And return, bleeding with the evening’s arrival.
The tears in my eyes dry from the anguish,
Engulfed in a thousand questions on my lips.
You come, like a butterfly around my lantern,
And your voice descends like light, awakening my joys.
Yearnings travel between my sides,
Your fragrant whispers illumine my dawn.
You fly above the edges of my letters,
A melody forming my smile and my cries.
So if you drift away, my pens will weep for you,
And the eyes of the night will mourn their wounds.
I immerse in the depths of sorrow in your eyes,
Embracing my fate, cradled in your hands.
Where is the path that leads to your abode, and how can I,
In longing for rest, nestle beside you?
Prolonged absence weighs heavily upon a tortured heart,
Perplexed, its essence melts away in your presence.
While I wait, loss envelops me,
Drawing me closer, my longing calls for you.
Nothing extinguishes the fire of your love within me,
Except the blaze felt upon your lips.
Your love was a light shrouded in my era,
A beacon shielding me from the sorrows of despair.
And in my veins, your grandeur shines brightly,
Lost among the radiance that leads me to my peers.
I tread along thorns, carried by passion,
Your light exists in my eyes and my soul.
And my staunch resistance stirs the adversaries against me,
While the trials of life shake my being.
But I walk my path, guided by your spirit,
Neither poverty nor deprivation will break me.
For love is but our love, and our desires,
And sorrow is simply our shared grief.
So when we meet, the world dances for us,
And the birds sing when they see us together.
We dissolve within the whispers of conversation and its sorrows,
As the universe listens, humbled by our secrets.
The moon envelops us with its radiant light,
And the waves rejoice around us, celebrating.
But if we separate, the night is drowned in sorrow,
And our hearts ache from the burden of grief.
O love of my days, I thirst for you; is there any chance
For me to find roses on your lips or a path to you?
Do not abandon me in the haze like a feather,
Swayed by the winds to wherever they may lead.
As the waves play with me while you remain distant,
I row alone and the path is long.
Alone like a bewildered child in a boat,
Caught amid the waves and the howling winds.
Doubts burn me and flow through my blood,
Restlessness ignites my uncertainty and extends my anguish.