Time Wavers Until It Disturbs
Time sways until it is unsettled,
and sometimes feelings submit not from joy.
There has passed an era, and another has arrived,
and between these times lies all wonder.
Some people may sink below the earth,
while others rise high above the stars.
The events of time have taught us lessons,
and some events resonate like solemn speeches.
If people truly understood, they would find no path to benefits
except through troubling experiences.
O Lord, is there a sickness that might be a cure
when both medicine and the patient are at a loss?
Among the misfortunes of time is that what once cleared the burdens,
now finds itself burdened.
And if a person once stood safely amongst the fortunate,
he may now find himself ensnared among the destitute.
Do you not see how the noble Arabs are,
and how can one destroy their glory?
Where are those whom the spears elevated,
and where are the pillars they constructed?
Where are the towering peaks of honor that once were ours,
almost touching the clouds?
Education has shone brightly since we rose,
continuing to illuminate even as it sets.
We were climbing the heights of esteem,
but now our ascent is in decline.
And how many among us possessed the willpower
to reach high ranks of honor!
And how many fierce lions might shake the world,
whether they faltered or leaped!
I swear, if not for the delusion of minds,
the wealthy would not refrain from pursuit.
And were it not for the disagreements among them,
they would not find great aspirations so difficult to attain.
He who feeds his desires faces a fate,
just like feeding wood to a fire.
May God have mercy on days that have passed,
which hardly smiled before they wept.
And long live the nights we spent,
as shepherds for those both distant and near.
A kingdom that stands if it stumbles,
and a throne that stabilizes when it turns.
Ask that East what has befallen it,
and he sends it down a path of ruin.
If his sons had valued their lineage,
their failures would have dissipated.
For in them resided both knowledge and literature,
just as they hosted a wealth of thought.
Does the flowering plant not grow from its branches,
if all the streams have run dry?
And how many guides among them were met,
suffering disgrace and hardship?
As if their heart’s outpouring had never flowed from them!
Whoever strives towards lofty goals,
more deserving is he of effort than others.
Aiming for desires is not detrimental,
even if people thwart what he seeks.
How many lamps have illuminated,
amidst winds that never blew!
And no pearl is shamed by its shell,
nor does gold falter against dust.
O Sons of the East, where is that connection,
between us and those of high standing?
The sun has set upon your land,
heading to where it could have remained aloft.
To the West, where those noble men dwell,
and the knowledge that stands in books.
And if what you desired is true, then,
you cannot achieve altitude behind veils.
So follow the crowd as they turn,
for time’s decrees are stringent.
Those who resist fate in what they cherish,
will encounter more of fate’s hardships than they wish.
The Verses Come to You, Uninvited
The verses arrive to you, having no path away from you,
for you are generous to them, and they are your progeny.
I find none like me today among poets,
as your hands guide me to write.
And does my tongue find creativity when I praise you,
or is my elegance charming when I refer to you?
Let poetry emerge from the sea with its waves,
to you as it flows from the shore.
And if the noble sighers face Mecca,
this is the Kaaba for poetry in Yathrib.
It appeared like the moon rising, once it was,
shrouded in darkness, after being obscured.
With a face so radiant, that if the sun gazed upon it once,
the morning light would dim.
You revealed what was gloomy and terrifying,
with brightening smiles that once formed a frown.
Were you not the child of he who overflowed with goodness,
as rain pours down abundantly?
So, be fair like him, and be pious like him,
and preserve good for your offspring, as time plunders.
Your roots extend far and wide, carrying your name,
and proverbs about you spread across the land.
A people like the shining stars, as each one of them fades,
another bright star appears.
They stand amidst the courageous among every victor,
gaining strength akin to the lion’s.
You preserved their glory that once was squandered,
and maintained their pride that without you would vanish.
And you’ve been blessed with the grace of God and kingship,
who rests beneath yours, with dread of you.
When he is mentioned, the East rejoices,
and the West recognizes him as the greatest.
His very mention pierces the hearts of envious souls,
and he becomes beloved in every heart among people.
He satisfies his followers while diminishing his foes,
and still remains a source of hope and fear in both states.
You have been granted a rare beauty, revealing your charms,
and yet you are loyal while others seek courtship.
Countless have sought after you, yet turned away,
while greatness veiled itself before the unfit.
You’ve risen towards it, undaunted, and I see
those striving for their own positions wobble.
What more can there be of dignity but your grandeur as time draws near,
and the virtue of the Commander of the Faithful makes him close.
For a Cause That Raises the Clouds
For a cause that raises the clouds,
and soil does not reach the sky.
The souls do not conform to the forms of bodies,
and can soil inform you of the sword?
Is there truly a difference in desire and greed,
if the dog resembles the wolves?
People appear as bodies elevated,
for their pride stands on necks unyielding.
It’s not surprising if a woman exceeds a man,
but the husband wears the garments instead.
If both were in view, would I not discern,
which is the tragic and which is the attire?
There is a hidden secret within the depths of things,
by it, angels find the strength to challenge beasts.
So, my people, from those shining suns,
when they are compared, fog vanquishes.
Women, but they have spirits,
if they aspire, the difficulties become easy.
Should you meet the seas, take the ship,
and if the heavens take it, it is a shining star.
Delicate, yet they possess wisdom,
guiding them towards the correct destination.
And every virtue holds within it,
a hand where praised shades guard.
And my people, just as I know, you know,
they are the answer to their poet’s plea.
Men, yet they wear countenances,
that they indeed deserve the veils.
When they are strong, one would claim lineage, yet,
when counted, they lack nobility in descent.
Their ancestors carry a legacy among people,
and they, in turn, feel shame towards their ancestry.
And whoever declares the raven the son of the dove,
is deceived when the raven caws.
Strange, and indeed the strange remain,
that among us exists something unique.
We advance with the bodies and spirits of my people,
with women who don the veils.
And it is not the body, but souls that define humanity,
be it woman or man beneath the attire.
Your Ink is the Essence of Time
Your ink spills like the nectar of time,
and your handwriting adorns both hands with color.
Your palm shines like the half-moon,
and it’s no wonder that your pen ignites.
Like your glance, it flows, even if Asia,
is traced with wounds that have no resemblances.
It pours forth like honey from a bee,
even if it doesn’t revisit the drink.
It documents the beauty that the eyes describe,
and magic lies solely in the gaze and the writing.
Thus, take my eyes, let their darkness inspire,
and this pure heart of mine you shall find.
I see the hand above the pen, like a dove,
and beneath its wings, a raven flies.
As if the fabric of night is written paper,
it holds dawn’s bright promise and reproach.
As if dawn’s forehead was a manuscript,
and the lines, like fog, write itself.
As if the flash of lightning ignites a meaning,
and the shimmering sky holds the truth.
As if, when you gaze upon the writing,
wisdom and paper dance like clouds.
I see you hoping for what doesn’t belong to you,
and not every knowledge is but a needle and garments.
Let the flower suffice in what the hand of youth weeps,
is there not accounting for dew amidst floods?
And how foolish is the sheep, trampled by its own hoof,
if it thinks the sheep are wolves?
Consider the nobility that people claim you birthed,
and consider it a pride that your gates preserve.
For your heart belongs to your spouse, children, and parent,
and the ruler of all realms takes heed of you.
You were created only for the comfort of the downtrodden,
who sees bliss as torment?
Leave behind the crowd with whom you mingle,
for they hover around just like flies around sweet nectar.
You stand together, this resemblance is meaningful,
both embodying youth and beauty alike.
And not surprising that women shape themselves,
but it is the femininity of men that’s questionable.
They Looked at the Glass and Said
Among the short lyrical pieces by Mustafa al-Rafi’i:
They looked at the glass and exclaimed,
“It’s a tear from a [griever].”
I replied, “Nay, it’s my heart,”
“Melting from the flames of my love.”
Please forgive me for my yearning,
as I simply drink from my very heart.