The Poem: The Wise Man Suffers in Bliss with His Intellect
The wise man endures suffering amidst pleasure because of his intellect,
While the fool luxuriates in hardship.
Do not let the tears of an enemy deceive you,
And be merciful to your youth from an enemy who shows mercy.
Noble dignity does not remain untainted
Until blood is spilled upon its side.
Oppression is the nature of souls; if you find
Someone who possesses integrity, know they do not oppress.
Subjugation reveals affection in those who are meek,
And I prefer the one who loves, even if they are weak.
Whenever time grows a horn,
A person equips their spear with a sharp tip.
Yet the desires of the souls are too trivial to
Become enemies or to annihilate themselves.
However, the young man faces a grim fate,
Fierce as they are, yet faces not humiliation.
If life were to remain for the living,
We would count the brave among us.
And if death cannot be avoided,
It is sheer failure to act cowardly.
All that is not difficult in the realms of
How easy it is if one truly desires it.
Should you venture for noble pursuits,
Do not settle for less than the stars.
The taste of death over something trivial
Is akin to the taste of death over something significant.
Cowards believe that weakness is wisdom,
And that is a deception of treacherous nature.
Every act of bravery within a person suffices,
But bravery is unmatched in the sage.
How many have criticized a correct statement,
Yet their flaw stems from their faulty comprehension?
Nevertheless, ears accept from him
According to their mental capacity and knowledge.
A Wish: Let White Be a Dye
A wish of mine is for the white to be a dye,
Concealing youth with the whitening of decades.
Nights, amongst those with white hair, are a temptation for me,
And that pride is, for me, a cause of honor.
How then can I condemn today what I once desired,
And invoke what I lament when I am questioned?
Color has receded from a hue that guides every path,
Just as fog lifts from the brightness of day.
And in the body resides a soul that does not gray with age,
Even if what adorns the face bears a spear.
It has claws; if one claw wanes, another is prepared,
And a tooth remains, even if no teeth are left in the mouth.
Time alters me as it pleases, except for this,
As I reach the utmost age while she remains youthful.
Indeed, I am a star by which my companions navigate,
If a cloud stands between me and the stars.
Rich enough to avoid the homeland, it does not belittle me,
To a land I traveled away from.
And I echo no need for the water,
While the sun above the river shines brightly.
I am he who the blind man looks to for literature,
And my words resonate with one who is deaf.
I sleep deep in slumber, free from its distractions,
And people stay awake, drawn by it and wrangle over it.
With my refined style, I traverse between the powerful,
Until I struck, and the wave of death crashes upon me.
The steeds, the night, and the wilderness recognize me,
As does the sword, the spear, the parchment, and the pen.
I have journeyed alone through the desert terrains,
Until the mountains and hills were amazed by me.
How distant is shame and disgrace from my honor!
I am like the Pleiades, while the white hair and old age surround me.
A heart that the wine cannot soothe,
And a life like one that base folk offer.
And the people of this era are but young men,
Even if they possess colossal bodies.
And I am not among them living their lives,
But rather, I am the essence of gold embedded in clay.
I Confront Horses Among Their Warriors
I confront horses among their warriors,
Alone, yet my words are steady, and patience accompanies me.
I am braver than anyone who seeks my safety,
And steadfastness exists only when there is a divine decree.
I have trained against calamities until I abandoned them,
Asking whether death has taken its toll, or fear struck me.
I advanced with the determination of a man with a purpose,
As if I valued my life or had a right to it.
Let the soul take what it can before the end,
For apart, the two neighbors are distanced by life.
Do not think of glory as just a trinket or an entertainer; indeed,
Glory is only attained through sword and pure daring.
If virtue does not elevate you above base gratitude,
Then the virtue lies in the one who deserves the praise.
The one who spends their days hoarding wealth,
Out of fear of poverty, has already experienced poverty.
Indeed, I belong to a lineage whose spirits,
Refuse to dwell in flesh and bone.
Thus, I state: O world, go as you will,
And O soul, increase your bravery step by step.
Not a moment has passed where the hour did not honor me,
Nor a heart that accompanied me while it embraces injustice.
Live honorably or die with dignity,
Between the piercing of spears and the clashing of swords.
For the heads of lances are the truest remedy for grief,
And they provide solace for the heart of the envious.
Neither honor do I gain from my kin, but they elevate me,
With my own essence for pride, not through lineage.
And within them lies the pride of every speaker,
The sanctuary for the wrongdoer and the aid for the lost.
If I am to admire, let my admiration be profound,
For I have found none above myself.
I am the soil of the dew, the lord of poetry,
And the banner of the adversaries, the source of envy.
I dwell in a nation that the Almighty has encompassed;
As a stranger, like the upright in Thamud.