Poem: The Most Beautiful Love
Mahmoud Darwish expresses:
Just as grass sprouts between the seams of a rock,
We once existed as strangers,
While the spring sky crafted one star after another.
I composed a verse of love,
For your eyes… I sang it!
Do your eyes know I waited for an eternity,
Much like a bird waits for summer?
And I slept… like a migrant sleeping,
Where one eye sleeps so the other may awaken… for a long time.
And mourns for its sister.
We are lovers until the moon slumbers,
Knowing that hugs and kisses
Are the sustenance of romantic nights.
And that the morning calls to my steps to proceed,
Towards a new day!
We are friends, so you will see my hand in yours,
Together we create bread and songs.
Why question this path… what fate
Guides us?
And where did our footsteps gather?
For you and I, we walk together…
For eternity.
Why must we seek songs of sorrow
In an ancient poetry collection?
And ask: Oh love, will you endure?
I love you with the affection of caravans, an oasis of grass and water,
And the love of the poor for the loaf of bread!
Just as grass grows between the seams of a rock,
We once found ourselves as strangers,
Yet remain tender forever.
Poem: Love Teaches Me Not to Love
Mahmoud Darwish also notes:
Love teaches me not to love, and to open the window
To the side of the path. Can you step away from the call of the basil,
And divide me into two: you, and what remains of the song?
Love is but love. In every love, I see love as the death of a previous death,
A wind that drives the horses back to their mothers, the wind between the clouds and the valleys.
Can’t you step away from the buzzing of my blood to calm this ardor?
And can I draw the bee from the poisonous rose?
And love is love, it asks me: How did the wine return to its mother and burn;
And how sweet is love when it tortures, when it destroys the song’s narcissus.
Love teaches me not to love, leaving me in the grasp of the paper.
Poem: A Flash of Love
Abdul Rahman Al-Ashmawi says:
What is love but a flash in my heart,
With its light, consciousness shines.
Were it not for loyalty, its glow would fade,
And its heart would succumb to loss.
It is a flash that brightens the darkness as it rises,
For the beloved, goodness protects it.
However, if the intentions of the lover falter,
It becomes a raging fire and burning embers in the heart.
What is love but a dazzling flash,
Adorned by our giving and loyalty.
Poem: In the Realms of Love
Farouk Ghouida proclaims:
I made you the Kaaba of the earth, to which
People come from all corners.
I shaped your love into a song for the world,
Dancing dreamily like a ray of light.
How many times have my eyes embraced you with longing,
And how often did I hold you in the yearning of my arms?
How many shadows of my heart have wandered towards you?
In your eyes, how many sails have I sailed?
I returned to your Kaaba only to find a grave,
With flowers around it, while the snakes play.
I worshiped you in love for a long time,
And now I flee from my loss.
Poem: The Elixir of Life
Hamad bin Khalifa Abu Shahab states:
I see poetry flourishing only in you,
Flowing with overwhelming joy.
For you are, O source of my eyes, an oasis,
Encompassing a garden that softly flows.
If its words take flight and shine,
The beautiful love is its crown.
Directing it towards clarity, it quenches
The feelings drawn from the pure, clear well.
For you, O breath of life, are its shade,
And its melody in the world of love and its bloom.
Its essence gets intoxicated from your sweet fragrance,
And without you, it would neither savor nor spread its perfumes.
And without you, no song would resonate from the boughs,
Nor would the birds flutter in the two realms.
And without you, time would not sweeten nor sour,
With glory or the cool of the meadow’s allure.
For your love is the elixir of life and its spirit,
And the haven of a heart seeking shelter.
Except in you, I have no desire,
For my heart only desires you.
Everything I’ve written in verse is woven with your essence,
And all that I’ve written in prose is stirred by you.
Poetry can only exist in you, O aim of my desires,
Illuminated by the light of the finest verses.
Poem: Blame Me, O Hind, for Love
Aḥmad Shawqi declares:
Blame me, O Hind, for love,
A lover who considers friends as beloved.
He is neither a gossip in the way of passion,
Nor in the law of romance is he suspect.
I described who you are, and then a conversation unfolded,
A conversation that intrigues lovers.
I said to him: Be patient, for every brotherly love,
Will seek forgiveness from whoever it loves.
Poem: Increase My Confusion with Love for You
ابن الفارض proclaims:
Increase my confusion in love for you,
Have mercy on a heart engulfed by the fire of your passion.
And if I ask to truly see you,
Allow it, and do not make my answer—“You shall not see.”
O heart, you promised me in their love
Patience, so be cautious not to tighten and irritate.
For love is life, so die in it,
It is your right to die and be excused.
Tell those who came before me and those who come after,
And those who now see my sorrows:
Take from me, and follow my path, and hear my pain,
And converse about my longing amongst people.
For I spent time alone with my beloved, and between us,
There is a secret more gentle than the breeze when it stirs.
And my gaze allowed a longing glance,
So I became recognized, yet once a stranger.
I was astonished between their beauty and majesty,
And the language of my state spoke for me.
Direct your gaze upon the charms of their face,
You will find every beauty depicted within it.
If all beauty could complete a portrait,
Then upon seeing him, it would exclaim joyously.
Poem: Boundless Love
Nizar Qabbani states:
1
O my lady:
You were the most important woman in my history
Before the year departed.
You are now… the most important woman
After this year begins.
You are a woman I cannot measure in hours or days.
You are a woman…
Created from the fruit of poetry…
And the gold of dreams…
You are a woman… who inhabited my body
For millions of years.
2
O my lady:
O woman woven from cotton and clouds.
O rains of rubies…
O rivers of preciousness…
O marble forests…
You who swims like fish in the water of the heart…
And dwells in the eyes like a flock of doves.
Nothing will change in my emotions…
In my feelings…
In my consciousness… in my faith…
For I shall remain faithful to Islam.
3
O my lady:
Do not concern yourself with the rhythm of time and the names of years.
You are a woman who remains a woman… at all times.
I will love you…
At the dawn of the twenty-first century…
And at the dawn of the twenty-fifth century…
And at the dawn of the twenty-ninth century…
And I will love you…
When the seas dry up…
And when the forests ignite…
4
O my lady:
You are the essence of all poetry…
And the flower of all freedoms.
It is enough to spell your name…
To become the king of poetry…
And Pharaoh of words…
It is enough that a woman like you loves me…
To be inscribed in the history books…
And for flags to be raised on my behalf…
5
O my lady:
Do not tremble like a bird in festive seasons.
Nothing about me will change.
The river of love will not cease its flow.
The heartbeat will never stop its rhythm.
The soaring of poetry will never cease.
When love is grand…
And the beloved is a moon…
This love will not turn
Into a bundle of straw consumed by flames…
6
O my lady:
There is nothing that fills my eyes…
No lights…
No decorations…
No bells of feasts…
No Christmas tree.
The street means nothing to me.
The tavern means nothing to me.
Any words written on holiday cards mean nothing.
7
O my lady:
I only remember your voice
When the Sunday bells toll.
I remember only your scent
When I sleep on the grass’ parchment.
I remember only your face…
When the snow falls upon my garments…
And I hear the crackling of firewood.
8
What delights me, O my lady,
Is to curl up like a frightened bird
Between the gardens of eyelashes…
9
What fascinates me, O my lady,
Is to receive a pen from the inked wishes…
I embrace it…
And slumber peacefully like a child…
10
O my lady:
What brings me happiness in my exile
Is to drip the water of poetry…
And drink from the wine of monks.
What strengthens me…
Is that I am a friend
To freedom… and humanity…
11
O my lady:
How I wish I had loved you in the Age of Enlightenment…
And in the era of painting…
And in the era of pioneers…
How I wish I could meet you one day
In Florence.
Or in Cordoba…
Or in Kufa…
Or in Aleppo…
Or in a house from the alleys of Al-Sham…
12
O my lady:
How I wish we would travel
Towards lands ruled by guitars
Where love is without walls…
And words are without barriers…
And dreams are without confines…
13
O my lady:
Do not concern yourselves with the future, O my lady.
My yearning will remain stronger than before…
And fiercer than it ever was…
You are a woman who repeats neither in the history of roses…
Nor in the history of poetry…
Nor in the memory of the lily and basil…
14
O Lady of the World:
Only your love occupies me in the days to come.
You are my first woman.
My first mother.
My first womb.
My first passion.
My first longing.
My salvation in the time of the flood…
15
O my lady:
O first lady of poetry:
Stretch out your right hand so I can hide within it…
Stretch out your left hand…
So I can settle within it…
Say any phrase of love
So that the celebrations may begin…