The Horse, the Night, and the Desert Know Me
Alas for my heart! Who can understand it in its anguish?
When my body suffers and my condition is in disarray.
Why should I hide a love that has consumed my being,
While nations claim to love the Sword of State?
If our bond is rooted in love for his glorious visage,
Then may we share love in equal measure.
I visited him with the swords of India sheathed,
And gazed upon him while swords were stained with blood.
He was the finest creation among all of God’s beings,
And possessed the noblest of virtues.
Swift was the enemy who sought his defeat,
And within the layers of pursuit, both sorrow and joy were entwined.
Fear of your enemies took refuge in you,
Crafting a sense of awe that even the strongest cannot muster.
You bound yourself to an expectation that is not your burden,
That no land could conceal knowledge of them.
Every time you sought an army, it retreated in fear,
Driven by your resolute spirit.
You have defeated them in every confrontation,
And there is no shame in their defeat with your prowess.
Do you not see a sweet victory aside from victory itself,
Where the white swords of India offered a handshake?
Oh fairest of men, except in my treatment,
In you lies the contradiction, both as judge and adversary.
I seek refuge in sincere looks from you,
To prevent mistaking fat for muscle.
What benefit does one gain from the world’s view,
If light and darkness weigh the same in their eyes?
The assembly will come to know who among us is better,
After all, I am the one the blind man sees in his written verses.
As I sleep soundly while the world stirs restlessly,
And the ignorant mock my sleep with their laughter,
Until providence leads them to their humble endings.
If you ever see the lion’s fangs bared,
Do not presume that the lion smiles.
The essence of my life is bound to the one who shares it,
And he reached me with a noble steed.
Its legs gallop mightily like a man, and its hands are truly hands,
And its actions fulfill all that the hand and foot desire.
With unwavering tact, I moved among the troops,
Until death’s waves closed in around me.
The horse, the night, and the expansive desert recognize me,
As do the sword, the spear, the paper, and the pen.
I traversed the wilderness as a lonely beast,
To the astonishment of the cliffs and the valleys.
Oh, how hard it is for us to part from them,
For in our hearts, everything is a void without you.
How well you ought to be honored by us,
If only your order were synonymous with ours.
If your secrets reside in what our adversary claims,
Then what difference does it make if pain satisfies you?
Should you have valued the knowledge of those with discernment,
Then surely, wisdom among the wise is scarce.
How often do you seek faults in us while you fail,
For God disapproves of what you do, yet what is noble?
How far is defect and deficiency from my honor?
I am the Pleiades, and you are the aged and frail.
If only the lightning that accompanies my clouds,
Could take them away to those who possess the rains.
I see the distance demanding me at every stage,
Do not underestimate the lingering doubts about the drawing.
If a conscience weighs on our right side,
Then it will resonate with those I bid farewell with regret.
If you ever depart from people who have resolved,
To not be parted from you, then it’s the departing ones who are truly lost.
The worst place is one without a friend,
And the worst income is one that silences.
And the worst thing I ever trapped with my hands was merely prey,
So alike to the hawk, whether in pursuit or mere scavenge.
In what terms can you express poetry without argument,
For it passes through your lips without regard for nation or tongue?
This is your reproach unless it bears weight,
It has secured the pearl, yet it remains a word.
To the Measure of the Resolute, Come the Resolutions
The poet Al-Mutanabbi praised the Sword of State:
To the measure of the resolute come the resolutions,
And come forth to the measure of the noble the honors.
And what seems small in the eyes of the insignificant,
Appears great in the eyes of the great.
The Sword of State bears the burdens of the army,
While the armies are often left wanting.
And he seeks from the people what his own soul possesses,
Which is something that the fierce cannot claim.
Most noble of birds, the one serving his weapons,
Like the eagles of the wasteland, youthful and free.
Nor does it harm her to be born without talons,
As long as her swords and her steps are made.
Do the crimson events know their color,
And can they tell which of the rivers is flowing?
She quenches its thirst with glory before its descent,
And when it draws near, it is greeted with shields.
It built her mass, elevating it, while the spears crashed upon the spears,
And the waves of death crashed around it.
And it bore resemblance to madness, turning into a scene,
And from the corpses of the slain, talismans emerged.
Chased by a relentless time that led it back,
To align with its faith, while time persisted in its endurance.
Each passing night robs you of everything you held dear,
Except for what they seize from you as burdens.
If what you intend is an ongoing action,
It will vanish before the conditions lay upon it.
How can you hope to demolish the Romans and Russians,
When the sting remains at their foundation?
And they have summoned their fates, the confirmations of death,
So, neither have the oppressed perished nor the oppressors lived.
They come to you, dragging iron as if they were riding steeds,
With their horses having no limbs.
When they steal the glance, you can’t distinguish the white swords among them,
Your attire matches theirs, as do the turbans.
There’s a host in the east and a massive push from the west,
And in the ear of the gazelle, a clamor is not to be silenced.
United are all tongues and nations therein,
For only the trained can comprehend the news.
Indeed, it is God who determined a time that melts deceit like fire,
Leaving behind only a razor or a sword.
What cannot cut through armor and spear,
Will retreat from the knights who refuse to engage.
And you remain standing, while death holds no doubt for the one who stands firm,
As if you were in the eyelash of slumber.
The champions pass by you, silent in defeat,
And your face is radiant, your smile is bright.
You transcended the measure of courage and wisdom,
To be spoken of in words with distant foreknowledge.
You wrapped their wings around your heart,
As the hidden perish beneath while their leaders are at hand.
With a blow that reaches the heights while victory remains unseen,
And it reaches the depths while victory is on the horizon.
You deemed the ordinary to be beneath you,
Until the sword became the ram’s reproach.
And whoever seeks the grand conquest,
His keys are the white, great swords.
You scattered them over the high grounds,
As coins are scattered over a bride on her wedding day.
The horses tread upon you, trampling the hills,
And many restaurants abound around the hills.
The chicks of victory may think you have honored them,
But they are aged while the stables remain pristine.
As you glide, they glide on a flat path,
Just as the serpents do in the uplands.
Is this the daily tale, or is it a new beginning,
Lauded on the forefront as commendable?
Does the lion’s scent turn unheard until it experiences it,
For even beasts know the scent of the lion.
And the lion met with the child of his brother,
And through the kinship, the prince’s powerful campaign.
He left to thank his companions on the knife’s edge,
For their prominence had occupied him, amidst the struggles.
And he understands the sound of their swords,
Though the voices of the swords articulate to the unbending.
He delights in what you have granted, not out of ignorance,
But it has come back as tidings from the sacred spoils.
And you are not a king who overcomes his peer,
Yet you defeat polytheism is a primary victory.
Adnan provides honor through it, not Rabee’ah,
And the world takes pride in this without the capitals.
Thank you for the wealth I illustrate,
For you provide it, and I am but a poet.
And I charge forward relying on your blessings,
So neither am I reproached nor are you regretful.
For every creature that sets foot in your domains,
When it settles into their ears, they hear only echoes.
Oh, sword that is unsheathed without doubt,
And in it, there is no hesitation, nor is it protecting.
Congratulations for the strike upon the head, for glory and exalted victory,
And I hope for you and Islam that you remain safeguarded.
And why not may the Merciful guard your edges like He guards,
As you shatter the heads of your adversaries decisively.
Gazelle of the Wild Except for the Gazelle of the Tribe
Al-Mutanabbi, a poet of the Abbasid era, stated:
Oh gazelle of the wild, were it not for the gazelle of the tribe,
When I ventured forth with determination in love, I would have despaired.
Nor did I sprinkle dust while the clouds held back,
My tears are dried by the torment of my soul.
Nor did I find another presence bound to a dying host,
Just marking the weary space on the dry ground.
A victim whose demise quarreled with a breaking gaze,
Slain by the destruction of that eye and its beautiful lashes.
Such a treasure, if it saw sunlight, the sun would not rise again,
Nor would the cane of the willow dare to touch it,
What matters it if the whims of time rain upon me,
It only targets a person neither timid nor deterred.
Let not your betrayal bring harm to God’s servants,
With the brow of a beast, his horse’s hooves shall redeem.
Father of the lithe, they spared you from the prey,
And he left the lion as an unthreatened hound.
From every bright visage, his turban stands out,
As if it were wrapped around a flame in the night.
Near and far, a beloved yet despised joy,
A sweetness that is gentle yet fierce.
My dear friend, a loyal companion through trials,
Petted and nurtured, but he remains reserved.
If the blessing of his hands were the water of sustenance,
Then the highlands would envy their barren places.
They are noble who have envied the heavens for their aid,
While all of Egypt falters against the mountains.
Which sovereign do I fear when I approach,
And which generation leads me onward in this journey?