Shawq in Verses
The poet Al-Mutanabbi writes:
I struggle with my longing for you, yet longing prevails.
What a curiosity it is, this separation; even the union is astonishing.
Do the days not erred in showing me an enemy afar or a beloved closer?
By God, my journey is so meager when it comes to delays,
In the eve of the eastern winds and the western dusk.
In this evening, the harshest among those I have distanced myself from
Is the one who offers guidance on the paths I avoid.
And how often does the night reveal that you are far,
Only to indicate that the illusion of safety is deceptive.
Alas, what disaster awaits should the enemies approach?
In this experience, he came adorned with elegance.
And one day, just as delightful as the night of lovers, I was hidden,
Watching the sun, pondering when it will set.
My gaze fell upon two bright eyes, seemingly still adorned
With stars lingering in the night between their gaze.
There exists a presence about their form so noble,
That it rests upon a vast chest and then departs.
I have pierced through the darkness, drawing closer in hopes,
Only for it to overpower, and I must release it in moments of play.
Beneath these emotions, what creature inspires me is who I follow loss.
Like stepping away from something dangerous, I descend.
For all horses resemble companions, though few are true,
And what abundance can be felt in the sight of the untested.
If you haven’t witnessed its beauty but the elegance thereof,
Then beauty itself is lost to your perception.
May God bless this world with safe harbors for travelers,
And may heavy burdens afflict only the distant.
Oh, I wish I could compose a poem,
So that I neither complain nor cast aspersions.
Yet what suppresses poetry from me,
Is that my heart, oh daughter of my people, is wavering.
And should I sing praises of Kafur when I wish,
It demands that I pen with fervor every line.
When one abandons their family behind,
And turns toward Kafur, they find no disconnection.
A youth whose actions are filled with wisdom and reflection,
Kind and seldom irked by conflict.
When his hand strikes the sword in battle,
It becomes clear that the blade follows the hand’s direction.
His generosity overcomes hesitation,
While the flood of clouds above evaporates.
Father of musk, is there a luxury I can attain?
For I have been singing for a while now while you drink.
Your generosity measures what I pursue,
And your distraction levies what is taken from me.
This holiday finds lovers embracing,
While I lament for the one I love and grieve for their absence.
I yearn for my family, longing for our reunion,
But where can the longing find solace?
If not for you, either the father of musk or those similar,
Indeed you remain my sweetest longing, my most esteemed.
Every person thrives on kindness,
And every place becomes nurturing for elevation.
They intend ill towards you but God protects them,
For he shields the fine metal and sturdy hearts.
And those who seek to harm you do not comprehend
What they will face before their fear and despair.
When seeking them out, you shall find them diminished
But when they open a challenge with cunning,
And those who face you are unyielding and wise,
Though they waver under the flashing light of battle,
They consider it bravado yet remain steadfast.
On every occasion, you have armed swords,
Teaching every suitor on how to approach and woo.
Your noble deeds transcend the trivial tales that surround you,
And the virtues of your lineage shine through brilliantly.
Though the pride of your tales is ever soaring,
You are made greater by those who come from lineage that thrives.
And my joy in meeting you included can be endless.
For you are the essence of hope where dreams begin again.
Limitless Love Poetry
As Nizar Qabbani expresses:
O my lady:
You were the most important woman in my history
Before the year passed.
Now, you are the most vital woman
Following the dawn of this year.
You are a woman I do not measure in hours or days.
You are a woman, created from the fruit of poetry,
And from the gold of dreams.
You are a woman who inhabited my body
Long before millennia.
O my lady:
You crafted from cotton and clouds,
You are rainfall of rubies,
You are rivers of beautiful tones,
You are marble forests,
You who swim like fish in the water of heart,
And dwell in my eyes like a flock of doves.
Nothing will alter my feelings,
My sensations,
My spirit, my belief,
For I shall remain forever in the faith of Islam.
O my lady:
Do not fret over the tick of time or the names of years.
You are a woman, eternal in every moment.
I will love you in the arrival of the twenty-first century,
And when we enter the twenty-fifth century,
And in the thirty-ninth century as well.
And I will love you enduringly
When the sea water runs dry,
And the forests ignite.
O my lady:
You are the essence of all poetry,
The flower of all freedoms.
It is enough for me to spell your name,
To become the king of poetry,
The Pharaoh of words.
It suffices that a woman like you loves me,
For I will find myself in history’s pages,
And the banners will be lifted in my honor.
O my lady:
Do not tremble like a bird during holidays.
Nothing will transform within me.
The river of love will not cease flowing.
The heartbeat will not stop beating.
The flight of poetry will not yield.
When love blossoms big,
And the beloved stands as the moon,
This love will not become
A pile of straw consumed by flames…
O my lady:
There is nothing that can fill my eyes,
Not the lights,
Nor the decorations,
Not the bells of the feast,
Nor the Christmas trees.
The streets hold no value for me.
The taverns are meaningless to my heart.
Any words inscribed upon greeting cards
Have no significance in my life.
O my lady:
I do not remember anything except your voice,
When church bells toll.
I remember nothing but your fragrance,
As I rest on the grass’s paper.
I recall nothing but your visage,
When the snow flurries onto my garments,
While I hear the crunch of the wooden logs.
What delights me, O my lady,
Is to curl up like a scared bird,
Amidst the gardens of eyelashes…
What amazes me, O my lady,
Is gifting me a pen of ink,
Which I embrace, and sleep soundly like a child…
O my lady:
I find joy in my exile,
Dripping poetry like nectar,
And partaking of the monk’s wine.
How powerful I can be
When I stand as a friend
To freedom and to humanity…
O my lady:
How I wish I had loved you during the Enlightenment,
And in the age of imagery,
And in the era of pioneers.
How I wish I could meet you one day
In Florence,
Or in Cordoba,
Or in Kufa,
Or in Aleppo,
Or in a home in the alleyways of the Levant…
O my lady:
How I wish we could travel
To lands governed by guitars,
Where love exists without barriers,
And words know no boundaries,
Where dreams are free from constraints.
O my lady:
Do not be preoccupied with the future,
For my yearning will remain stronger than before,
More intense than what was.
You are a unique woman,
In the chronicle of roses,
In the volumes of poetry,
In the essence of the lily and the basil…
O lady of the realm,
Only your love occupies my thoughts for the days to come.
You are my first love.
You are my first mother,
My first womb,
My first passion,
My first desire,
My saving grace in a time of flood…
O my lady:
O first lady of poetry,
Extend your right hand for me to take shelter within it..
Extend your left hand,
So I may dwell therein..
Utter any phrase of love,
To usher in the festivities.
A Love That Transcends Time
As Ibn Al-Farid articulates:
I have inscribed with love the verses of passion from my forebears,
For those of longing are my allies and my decree over all.
Every youth in love, I am their leader,
And I stand free of blame from any youth who hears the reproach.
I possess wisdom in love, profound in its attributes,
And whoever fails to learn from love dwells in ignorance.
And whoever wanders without pride in their soul
In love for their beloved shall be greeted with contempt.
When folks are generous with wealth, you will see them giving,
For they offer their very souls without a hint of stinginess.
And when they conceal a secret, you shall find their chests
Graveyards for mysteries, bereft of confession.
When threatened by separation, they fearfully wither,
And when warned of death, they long to meet it.
Indeed, in love, they are nothing but the truth,
While others see merely light-hearted folly.
Your Love is a Green Bird
As expressed by Nizar Qabbani:
Your love is a green bird,
A strange green bird,
Which grows, my darling, just as birds grow,
Pecking at my fingers,
And from my eyelids, it pecks.
How did it come?
When did this beautiful green bird arrive?
I gave it not a thought, my beloved,
For the one in love does not think…
Your love is a blond child,
Breaking whatever it can along the way…
It visits me when the sky rains,
And it plays, stirring my feelings, as I endure…
Your love is an exhausting child,
While all others sleep, my beloved, it stays awake.
A child whose tears I cannot bear…
Your love grows on its own,
Just like fields blossom,
As on our doorsteps,
The red poppies flourish,
As almonds and pines grow on the hills,
As sugar flows through the heart of the peach…
Your love, like air, my darling,
Surrounds me
From where I do not notice or feel.
Your love is an island,
A dream…
It cannot be spoken of, nor explained…
Your love, what can it be, my beloved?
A blossom? A dagger?
A candle that shines…
An assault that devastates?
Or is it the will of God that is unconquerable?
All I know about my feelings
Is that you, my beloved, are my beloved…
And that the one who loves
Simply doesn’t think…