Beloved
The beloved represents the partner, the other half of the beloved, and is considered an integral part of life. There is nothing more beautiful than expressing our feelings for those we love through words. These words may be simple, yet they touch the hearts of our life partners, who share our joys and sorrows and stand by us during our moments of weakness and need. The least we can offer our beloved is a few heartfelt words.
Beautiful Words to Say to Your Beloved
- I thought about gifting you my eyes, but I was afraid of missing you and not seeing you again.
- It is tormenting to write to someone who cannot read you, to wait for someone who will not come, to love someone who is unaware of your feelings, and to need someone who does not need you.
- The difference between passion and love is that when the one you love cries, you try to comfort them, but when the one you adore cries, you cry alongside them.
- I wish my heart were transparent, so you could see how much I love you and how much I fear losing you.
- Those who have experienced true love possess the most beautiful moments in the world, and anyone fortunate enough to have a beloved like you possesses the whole world.
- If love were lost, you would be my guide; if the heart were to die, you would be its replacement, and a single word of love is too little for what I feel for you.
Poetic Verses for Your Beloved
Poem: My Beloved
The poem “My Beloved” by the Lebanese poet Ansi Al-Hajj, born in 1937, started publishing short stories, research, and poems in literary magazines while still in secondary school in 1954. His notable work includes “لن” (Lann), which is the first collection of prose poems in Arabic. Below are excerpts from “My Beloved”:
My beloved, dear friend, she fell asleep with winter and awoke youthful, like someone unknown coming from asceticism towards the fire, unlocking the chains of economy and solitude, rushing like a golden piece toward the evening of worry and dawn of kindness.
My beloved, once I discovered her through songs, I lost her trail.
My beloved, dear friend, I love her because I never expected she would love me.
My beloved, a recurrence of action, an action of forgetfulness and maidenhood.
My beloved unites with me so how can I hide from her?
My beloved, as pure as the awake earth, I possess a museum where I keep the faces of my beloved, illuminating them with satisfaction, and in quarrels, granting them beauty.
My beloved accompanies me with loyalty, leading me steadily from path to path throughout the land of suffering.
My beloved, dear friend, and you have no beloved.
She laughs and says to me: You invent the qualities of a beloved!
She becomes upset and tells me wise and mature words, of men and experience.
Your anger intensifies and you say: What kind of love is this?
And your anger intensifies, and you say: You mock yourself! You are but a child! All women are unfaithful; let us settle for this! Imagination is one thing, and reality is another; let us face reality to avoid disappointment!
But you are mistaken, my friend, to some extent you are right, to some extent you are fearful…
Love belongs to us, my friend, and not to anyone else. We are eager, and the foxes within us have nothing but their grace. If we weren’t lovers, we would be prisoners of shrines, missionaries of religions, and prophets of exile. We are the spirit of lilies, my friend, and we are alone in love.
And the birds are more capable of mischief than we…
We declare: fidelity is an illusion, innocence is a mirage, myth is mere fiction; let us acknowledge that love is not a dream, and let us emerge from childhood.
Yet we are hypocrites.
Because the star in the sky is the star in the heart.
Because the star in the sky is the moon in the heart.
Because the whiteness in nature is the color of our purity.
Deep down, we believe in ancient love, romantic love, love overflowing with qualities, but we trivialize it because the world around us diminishes it, making us appear as a ludicrous minority.
The world has crushed spontaneity, instilling fear in us. We know we are weak, that we are torn by emotions and plagued by beauty, yet we express indifference and roughness because we fear mockery and disgrace.
How cowardly we are, how treacherous, my friend!
Step forward, take your courage, and let us shoot a bullet at this world!
As we pay no heed to a mere fragment of life, so too do we pay no heed to a fragment of love.
We either open it until the end like doors or close it until the end like doors.
And if we do not find the woman, we shall find her.
And if we do not find the woman, we will speak to her, and she will come.
Like water that runs from the well
Like water that returns to the well…
We have a life, and nothing else. If we do not stir with love, then when will we?
We have love, and nothing else. If we disdain it, where shall we carry our glory?
Where are now the mocking laughs and the curses of those who defamed and scorned it?
They fell like stones from great heights, and not a butterfly rested upon them.
We have a life, and nothing else, my friend.
If I become a preacher, I shall traverse from place to place, making them moan in public squares, lamenting like those who have lost their fortunes, begging like those whose homes have been burned,
screaming like those drowning in their cursed destinies,
if I become a messenger, my words will hang like branches from their hearts; if I become a prophet, what else is there but love?
Is it not in the sun and the sea?
Is it not the power, the past, the birth, and the crucifixion?
I once thought I had time
Like a nightingale, I moved lightly.
I was thirsty for thirst and played games
because I thought I had time.
But I see my words advancing swiftly, outpacing me
and I must run behind the fire before it extinguishes
before the fire goes out
and I bow before it in earnest submission
and respond by opening my book.
And above the city, I proclaim the honor of love
and step over degradation with my feet.
My beloved, dear friend
and you have no beloved…
Poem: A Young Man Controlled by His Beloved
The poem “A Young Man Controlled by His Beloved” by the poet Ibn Sahl Al-Andalusi is about Ibrahim Ibn Sahl Al-Ishbili, Abu Ishaq, a poet of love. Originally Jewish, he embraced Islam, cultivated his literary talent, and crafted exquisite poetry in Seville before residing in the Moroccan mainland, where he tragically drowned.
A young man controlled by his beloved,
He wanders while the length of separation is his fate.
Pure love is abandoned, and the one caring for him is forbidden; meanwhile, the innocent one is ill-fated.
The false hopes are merely a barrier standing in the truth of love,
Wherever joy resides, it presents its challenges.
O star of beauty in my eyes, your essence
And the unrest in my ribs fuels its flame.
Do you not tremble for the captive of nightingales?
Whose tears and lineage have softened for you.
A lovestruck one yearns for your words,
Even if they carry blame that incites wars.
And he wishes he could dissolve from sheer anguish,
To return in seeking solace among the returning ones.
No matter how long he gazes upon you, he blinds himself,
With tears sprinkling freely from his eyes.
And if sleep comes to the imagination that ensnares him,
He leads the unrest and his wails.
For the tears within you, with daylight, are enemies,
And the sleeplessness within you, with words, is a guardian.
When will he triumph and from among the contenders be free,
And when will he awaken, and from his companion, his healer?
If the devil of detachment circles my thoughts,
The spark of my yearning clamps itself onto the place around him.
Reflections for Your Beloved
First Reflection:
Love has a profound impact on this life; it imbues it with flavor and color, making it seem vibrant in our eyes. Love shines a light on our small hearts, allowing them to embrace the vastness of the universe.
Second Reflection:
Allow me to traverse to you through a maze of a thousand paths… to love you with a thousand contradictory emotions… to forget and remember you… through the extremes of forgetting and memory… to submit and rebel against you… with the extremes of freedom and bondage… through the paradox of passion and hate.
Third Reflection:
Love was once in a better state when doves served as couriers delivering the messages of lovers. How many longs were extinguished by the rise of mobile phones which shortened distances? People have forgotten the urgency with which lovers awaited the mailman, and how significant it was for one to write “I love you” by hand. What bliss and risk it was to keep a love letter for a lifetime.
Messages for Your Beloved
First Message:
Love consists of two souls laughing at the same things…
Feeling sorrow at the same moment…
Igniting and extinguishing…
With a single matchstick, without coordination or agreement…
Second Message:
The eyes are entranced by your image…
The heart runs through your blood…
And every time I hear your voice…
My lips whisper, “I love you…”
Third Message:
I gift you, my beloved, two roses…
A red rose that says “I love you…”
And a yellow rose that expresses “I am jealous of you…”