The Art of Eloquence
Human thoughts often generate words beyond description, prompting individuals to employ romantic expressions that forge connections by celebrating the beloved’s virtues and beauty. The art of eloquence, or ghazal, frequently conveys deep longing for beloved ones, instilling confidence in the heart of the beloved and fostering closeness. It strengthens the bonds between lovers. Among the most notable proponents of this poetic form is the renowned poet Nizar Qabbani. In this article, we will highlight some of his most exquisite ghazals.
I Love You, I Love You, and This Is My Expectation
During the 1970s, Nizar Qabbani published several poetry collections including “Book of Love,” “One Hundred Love Letters,” “Wild Poetry,” “Outlawed Verse,” “To Beirut, the Woman,” and “With Love.” One of his most beautiful ghazal poems is presented below:
Are you in doubt that you are the sweetest woman in the world?
And the most important woman in the world?
Are you in doubt that when I stumbled upon you,
I held the keys to the universe?
Are you in doubt that when I touched your hands,
The structure of the world changed?
Are you in doubt that your entrance into my heart
Is the most significant day in history?
And the greatest news in the world?
Are you in doubt of your essence,
O one who occupies pieces of time with her eyes?
O woman who shatters the sound barrier as she passes by?
I do not know what happens to me,
For you seem to be my first feminine love,
And it feels as though I have never loved before you,
As though I have never even kissed.
You are my rebirth, and before your tenderness, I cannot recall having lived.
And it feels as though, my queen,
I emerged like a bird from your womb.
Are you in doubt that you are a part of my being,
And that from your eyes I have stolen the fire,
Leading the most dangerous of revolts?
O flower, gemstone, and aromatic herb,
O sovereign,
O ruler among all queens,
O fish swimming in the waters of my life,
O moon rising every evening from the window of words,
O greatest victory among all my conquests.
O last homeland in which I am born
And where I will be buried,
And disseminate my writings.
O woman of wonder, my beloved,
I cannot comprehend how the wave has thrown me at your feet.
I do not know how I walked to you,
Or how you walked to me.
O woman for whom all the birds of the sea rush,
To settle in your bosom.
How fortunate I was when I found you,
O woman who weaves herself into the fabric of poetry,
Warm as the sand of the shore,
A beauty akin to the Night of Decree.
From the moment you knocked on my door, my life began.
How beautiful my poetry has become,
When it flourishes between your hands.
How rich and strong I have become,
Since God gifted you to me.
Are you in doubt you are a spark from my eyes,
And your hands are a continuation of light emanating from mine?
Are you in doubt that the words you utter emerge from my lips?
Are you in doubt that I exist in you and you in me,
O fire that engulfs my being,
O fruit that fills my branches,
O body that strikes like a sword
And erupts like a volcano.
O breast that exudes the scent of tobacco fields,
And rushes toward me like a horse.
Tell me,
How will I save myself from the waves of the flood?
Tell me,
What should I do, for I am in a state of addiction?
Tell me the solution, for my longings
Have reached the limits of delirium.
O woman with Greek features,
And Spanish hair,
O woman who does not recur even in thousands of eras.
O woman who dances barefoot at the entrance of my veins,
Where did you come from, and how did you come?
And how did you storm my being?
O one of God’s blessings upon me,
And a cloud of love and tenderness,
O dearest pearl in my hands.
Ah, how much my Lord has given me!
The First Kiss
In 1939, Nizar embarked on a school trip to Rome, during which he penned his first verses, enamored by the waves and fish. He later enrolled in the Faculty of Law at the University of Damascus, graduating in 1945. That same year, he joined the Syrian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and was appointed to the Syrian embassy in Egypt. Among his many poems is one devoted to his beloved, where he expresses his affection:
Two years have passed since you departed, O my beloved,
And your fragrance still lingers on my lips.
It feels as if your sweetness has not vanished,
And your scent fills my sanctuary.
When your hair was in my hands, it became a whirlwind,
And your lips felt like my fire and kindling.
Tell me, did you unleash hellfire in my lips?
Is it lust to claim you as my burn?
When our lips intertwined warmly,
I glimpsed in your lips a shadow of my tomb.
Stories tell that lips are an act of defiance,
For you have made my transgression delightful.
People claim that lips are a playground,
Yet they consumed my bones and veins.
O sweetness of my first kiss, carried away
By the fragrance of my mountains, forests, and valleys.
And, O heavenly nectar of the lips, if
I reminisce about it, my throat floods with tears.
What remains on my lower lip, and has your imprint
Been left on my parched mouth, or my lungs?
Nothing remains of you except a thread of scent,
Inviting you to return, my lady.
You May Be
Nizar Qabbani, the Damascus-born diplomat, is the grandson of a pioneer of Arab theater. The cities of Damascus and Beirut held special significance in his poetry, notably in pieces like “The Damascene Poem” and “O Lady of the Universe, Beirut.” The 1967 War, often referred to as the Setback, marked a significant shift in his poetic journey, propelling him from themes of love and womanhood into the realm of political poetry. Nonetheless, he penned many heartfelt verses dedicated to his beloved, including this one:
You may be
One of the most beautiful women,
Warm as embers in winter’s hearth,
Wild as a cat howling in the wilderness,
Ruling with authority like a deity in the sky.
You may be
A dark-eyed African beauty,
Stubborn as a spirited mare,
Fierce as fire, earthquake, or madness.
You may be
Stunningly beautiful,
Provocative to the senses and imagination,
And masterful in the fates of men.
You may lie before me,
Exposed like a sword in the darkness,
Soft as an ostrich feather.
Your breast, a white stallion,
Runs free without saddle or bridle.
You may stay here
For a year or a bit longer,
And your ravishing beauty does not stir my interest,
As if no woman stands before me.
You may be
The queen of time and epochs,
And I may be a fool tangled in my feelings.
You may speak as you wish about my cowardice and pride,
And that I cannot love like the eunuchs do in palaces.
You may threaten
You may rebel
You may rise up,
Yet I,
Amid the tears of wax and silk,
And the knot of harem in my conscience,
Will not accept any artifice in my feelings.
You may be
Transparent as the tears of the harpist,
Sensitive as a star,
Profound as a forest,
But I feel a heaviness,
For sex, in my concept,
Is a harmonious fable,
Like carving, painting, or writing,
And your pure body, like cream and marble,
Does not understand composition.
Your Face Is Like the Opening of a Poem
Nizar Qabbani married his relative Zahra Aqbik, marking the beginning of his battles through poetry and the onset of his fame. Following his wife’s passing due to a heart operation, he refrained from writing for three years until he met Balqis Al-Rawi, whom he adored. He proposed, yet her family rejected him due to his reputation as a poet of love. Nizar beautifully describes his beloved in this poem:
Your face is like the opening of a poem,
Pulling me,
Pulling me
Like a sail at night towards the shores of rhythm.
It opens for me a horizon of agate,
And the moment of creation.
Your face is a remarkable visage,
A watercolor and
A journey among the finest adventures
Between myrtle and mint.
Your face,
This open notebook, how lovely it is
When I see it in the morning,
Bringing me coffee in its smile
And the blush of apples.
Your face entices me
To the last poetry I know,
And the final words,
And the last Damascene rose that I love,
And the last dove.
Your face, O my lady,
Is an ocean of symbols and new questions.
Will I return safely,
While the wind provokes me,
And the waves stir me,
And love urges me on,
As my journey is far away?
Your face, O my lady,
Is a marvelous message,
That has been written,
And has yet to reach the heavens.
Advice to a Wise Woman
Nizar’s poetry is notably distinguished from that of other poets, deeply influenced by everything around him, particularly the tragic story of his sister’s suicide, which resonated within him. Nizar Qabbani is one of the most celebrated poets regarding love and femininity, dedicating his verses and emotions to women, whom he considered his one and only love, often comparing them to countries and cities. One poignant poem among his romantic verses is:
I advise you to embrace my madness
For it shapes the curve of your breasts.
And when my river of madness recedes,
Your breasts will become cubes,
Like a mail box.
I advise you to embrace my madness,
For it cleanses you
With water, herbs, and flowers.
And the day I lift my hand from your madness,
You will transform into a wooden woman.
I advise you to cherish my madness,
For as long as I am troubled,
And anxious,
You are exceedingly beautiful.
When the symptoms of my madness subside,
You will enter into old age.
I advise you to carry my madness,
For it is your aesthetic capital,
Your greatest wealth.
And the day I withdraw my support of madness from you,
Your bankruptcy will be declared.
I advise you to embrace my madness,
For it is the crown with which you rule the world.
And when the sun of my madness sets,
Your crown will fall,
And the people will strip you of all your powers.
Whispers
Nizar Qabbani masterfully combined simplicity and eloquence, which characterize modern poetry. He excelled in crafting both national and romantic poetry. Many artists, including Umm Kulthum, Abdel Halim Hafez, Najat Al-Saghira, Fairouz, and Kazem Al-Saher, have sung his works. Nizar began writing poetry at the age of 16 and obtained a Bachelor’s degree from the National Scientific College. He has composed numerous pieces wherein he expresses his affection for his beloved:
In her lips, there is a luring call,
Whispering to me, come,
To a blue liberation,
Whose boundaries are the impossible.
We scatter the fragrance as we flow,
In a cascade that has no rival.
Do not be shy, for the roses
Scatter over our path.
As long as you are mine, none of that matters—
What has been said, and what will be said.
A kind whisper,
Generous shadows,
And a desire so subdued,
I see its reflection
On a mouth that is thirsty for questions.
It calls upon me, promising,
Tomorrow you shall have your due.
I am, as you whispered to me,
Cast away upon the mountains.
My pillow floats,
On the blood of oblivion.
I have planted a thousand roses,
For the sake of your flowing scarf.
For the sake of a green shirt,
Spreading the harvest.
Rise to the swing,
Submerged in the ropes,
We shall eat from our vineyard,
And feed the baskets.
I drink from your little mouth,
Sugar that is lawful.
When I kiss your right,
I say, and the left.
Do not ask if you love me,
I have been, and I still am.