Love Poem
- The poet Adnan Al-Sayigh expresses:
It is the homeland, awakening
On the ember of connection,
Stretching
From the depths of your eyes
To the harbors of my heart,
Delicious
Radiant
Illuminated
Like every morning when I see you,
Swirling in your embroidered school dress,
A flower of tenderness,
Where butterflies of my heart rejoice in your presence.
And I move on,
Chasing the strands of your hair
Until time fades away.
I search for a place for poetry,
To rest my sorrows upon,
And I wonder, oh poetess,
Why do I love you?
And I inquire,
About you to the birds of our village,
To the gardens,
And the vigilant star,
I ignite all my candles
By the river,
As a vow to your eyes,
Hoping you will come, my love.
So I may see in the depth my extinguished days,
And carry my heart in my palms… and move on,
Turning over the streets
And words,
Hoping to find you,
Arriving in your school dress, embroidered with daisies,
A whisper of tenderness.
So I open all the windows of my heart to you,
And whisper in your ears,
Enter, safely.
Political Love Poem
- Poet Ahmed Matar articulates:
Your poetry, oh friend, is blind poetry,
It sees only what is forbidden.
For here is exile, and here is prison,
And here is a grave, and here is slaughter,
And here is a shackle, and here is a rope,
And here is a landmine, and here is a soldier.
What is this?
Has the world emptied
Except for a recurring agony?
Take a breath,
Ask about Layla…
Respond to the innocent knock
Of a poor soul dwelling on your left.
Even war, when it tires,
Will lower its veil.
Before you, there have been knights
Who stood firmly in their stance.
For here is pain, and here is hope.
Take our friend Antar as an example,
In his right hand the sword wails,
And in his left hand, the lute sings.
But his story is not worth mentioning:
A dark complexion,
And a paternal uncle,
And a harsh father.
The solution is easy, and the apparatus lighter.
A sharp sword,
And a mutilated horse.
As for my tragedy, conceive this:
My feet on the ground,
And my heart
Turning on the Day of Judgement.
With this, like you, is excusable.
We did not ask you for a suspended ode,
Just flirt with your Layla as you will.
Put it in the margins of the notebook,
Describe her eyes,
Describe her lips,
Say in it a verse and leave it behind.
What do you risk?
Is your heart hewn from marble?
Fine then… fine,
I shall praise her:
Her eyes are as dark as the police station,
Her lips like red wax,
Her breasts like the twists of my body
Before signing the report.
Her stature like the stick of a torturer,
And her hair like a gallows,
And the eyebrow a dagger.
Layla, your love is colonialism,
And my heart is a colonized land.
For the promise with her is a well-known fact,
And the reality with her is notorious.
Like a ruler… Layla abandons me,
Like an informer… she raids me at night.
Like state projects, she slumbers,
Like the sixth fleet, she keeps me awake.
I have nothing of her except an illusion,
That dissipates the moment she appears.
Like the slogan of unity… no more.
Layla, mysterious, like my rights,
And playful, like a green book.
Selection of Love Verses
- Poet Mahmoud Darwish articulates:
I asked you to wave your beautiful hand upon the earth,
A branch of time,
To let the leaves of past and present fall,
And in a moment, two souls are born.
An angel… and a poet.
And we know how ashes can ignite,
If the lovers confess.
My apple! Oh, how sweet is the forbidden!
If only you understood your eyes’ confusion and my silence.
How wondrous I am, how the winds complain,
About my presence with you? And you,
Are the eternal essence of wine in my voice,
And the taste of legends and the earth… it’s you.
Why does a star travel on an orange,
And drink, drink, drink until it’s intoxicated,
If you’re in my embrace
Breaking the melody and the sound of its supplication?
Why do I love you?
How do you go weak in my presence?
And fatigue my breeze on your lips?
Thus, in a moment I realize
That night is a pillow,
And that the moon
Is as beautiful as the bloom of a rose,
And that I am handsome… because I am with you.
Will you stay atop my arm, a dove,
With your beak dipped in my mouth,
And your hand above my forehead, a beauty mark,
To immortalize the promise of love in my blood?
Will you remain upon my arm, a dove?
Flap your wings… so I may soar,
Rock me to sleep… so I may rest,
And give my name the pulse of fragrance,
And make my home a dove’s tower.
I want you with me,
A phantom walking on two feet,
And the rock of reality
Flying with the blink of an eye.
Ode to Love and Flirtation
- Poet Mustafa Sadik Al-Rafi’i reflects:
Oh for love and flirtation,
From the large-eyed ones,
Like gazelles but not gazelles,
From joy and laziness,
From the enchanting, yet not the enchanting,
In the darkened pupils,
From dolls but not dolls,
In her flawless beauty.
They approached, playful, yet
They were nothing but arrows.
Then they cast a glance,
Constrained with destiny,
Then scattered from here,
And from there upon the paths,
Alone, disturbed,
Oh the sweetness of this disturbance!
Fleeting away in embarrassment,
Oh beauty lost in shyness.
Then they met like purity,
Hope intertwined with hope,
Congruent with delight,
And they were one of the joys.
Diverse in argument,
And beauty is the origin of the contention.
These change to be like this,
With their adornments and dresses,
And that one from what embellishes her,
Her beauty in the holidays.
They competed, and beauty
For the beautiful like states.
Then stood a dazzling one,
Swaying like intoxication,
Rising with a waist that has yet to yield,
From the weight of her back in boredom.
She trembles in the grip of love,
Shaking the hero’s sword,
A posture standing,
Wandering without restraint,
Like the sun is in its stillness,
And her moving shadow.
A circle in an orbit
From her waist to her hips,
And her chest is like a palace built
Above that ancient ruin.
And her waist is like a recluse
Seeking solitude in the mountains.
Every sigh moves her,
From a blooming flower.
Her longing for the lute, yet not diminished,
As if from my rib cage,
If she weeps, she laughs for me,
Like a bird that has stirred from its wet nest.
Vibrating like a bird tomorrow,
In the grip of her caretaker.
Swaying not from folly,
And we all are unsteady,
And we play without work,
And we all are busy.
An observer in a man,
Ignoring another’s manliness,
From one brow to another,
And from one gaze to another,
Like the sun is to the lover,
And poetry to Saturn.
Smiling yet frowning,
Like dawn and the child,
Leaping yet still,
She sways yet remains unworn.
Between us, she says she is balanced,
She says she has not been balanced,
And she may believe she has been tarnished,
In us, but has not been tarnished.
She exemplifies what she has learned,
About her lips from me,
With a hurry in leisure,
And leisure in a hurry.
I Love You, I Love You, This is My Signature
- Poet Nizar Qabbani states:
Is there any doubt that you are the most beautiful woman in the world?
And the most important woman in the world?
Is there any doubt that when I found you…
I held the keys to the universe?
Is there any doubt that when I touched your hands,
The world itself changed?
Is there any doubt that your entrance into my heart
Was the greatest day in history…
The most beautiful news in the world?
Is there any doubt about who you are?
You, who occupies pieces of time with your eyes,
You, a woman who breaks walls of sound as she passes by,
I don’t know what happens to me?
As if you are my first female,
And before you, I have never loved,
And it seems I have never practiced love… nor kissed.
You are my birth… and before your embrace, I cannot recall I existed.
And you are my blanket… and before your tenderness, I cannot recall I lived…
As if, oh queen,
I emerged from your womb like a bird…
Is there any doubt that you are a part of me
And that I, with your eyes, stole the flame…
And initiated my most perilous revolts?
Oh rose… and gemstone… and fragrant flower,
And sovereign…
And popular… and rightful among all the queens…
You are a fish swimming in the sea of my life,
You are a moon rising each evening from the window of words…
You are the greatest victory among all my conquests,
You are the last homeland where I will be born…
And buried in…
And where I will publish my writings…
You, woman of wonder… my woman,
I do not know how the wave cast me at your feet.
I don’t know how I walked to you…
And how you walked to me…
You, who all the sea birds rush to,
To settle in your breasts…
How great was my fortune when I found you…
You, woman, who enters into the fabric of poetry…
Warmth personified, like the sands of the sea…
You, magnificent as the Night of Destiny…
From the day you knocked on my door… my life commenced…
How beautiful my poetry became…
When it ripened between your hands…
How rich I became… and how powerful…
When Allah sent you to me…
Is there any doubt that you are a fragment of my eyes
And that your hands are a seamless continuity of my light…
Is there any doubt…
That your words come forth from my lips?
Is there any doubt…
That I am in you… and you are in me?