Romantic Poetry
Romantic poetry stands as a vital theme within Arabic literature, with its roots tracing back to the pre-Islamic era. Numerous Arab poets have distinguished themselves through their verses on love, eloquently expressing their deep emotions. Notable figures include Jabir Ibn Zayd, Antarah Ibn Shaddad, Qays Ibn al-Mulawwah, among others.
Most Beautiful Romantic Verses
- Oh, that the one who created the dark-eyed beauties
Would create hearts that palpitate like iron.
Were it not for their flirtations and glances,
No soul would long for love like a hunter.
If you perceived beauty without being enchanted,
You’d be a person of coarse nature, dull and numb.
And if you yearned for pleasure with longing,
You would seek the lost yet available.
- Had the affliction I suffer been as the pebbles are
Or the wind, unheard in its blowing,
If only I could ask forgiveness from God each time
I remembered you, my sins would have been erased.
- I am envious of you, from my heart and eyes,
Envious of you, the times, and the place,
If I placed you within my eyes,
Until the Day of Judgment, it would not suffice for me.
- I have four witnesses for my love for you,
And for every case, there are two witnesses,
The pounding of my heart and the disturbance of my senses,
My frail physique and my tongue’s inability to speak.
- I remembered Layla and the days gone by,
And nights devoid of restraint against merriment.
The day cast a shadow like a spear that fell short,
With Layla distracting me while I was not forgetful.
“In the city of…” Layla’s fire showed up with my comrades,
“In the lush lands,” we urged our camels forward.
One among us said, “I spotted a star”
That appeared in the dark night, standing alone and Yemeni.
I replied, “No, indeed it is Layla’s fire that flared,”
“From Aliah,” its light rose brightly to become apparent.
Would that the caravan had not crossed the lush pastures,
And that the lush meadows had not traveled with the caravan by night.
O night, how many pressing needs I summoned!
If I approach you by night, I do not know what they are.
Oh my friends, if you do not let me weep, seek for me
A friend to comfort me if my tears flow.
For the younger generation is only just infatuation,
And I only recite poetry for the sake of healing.
Indeed, God gathers the two divided parties after they
Assumed every notion that they would never meet.
Poems About Love
Among the most exquisite poems composed about love and romantic themes, we have selected the following:
A Beautiful Girl Shot My Heart
By Antarah Ibn Shaddad
A beautiful girl shot my heart with
Arrows of glances, for which there is no remedy.
She passed during the festive season among
Those as radiant as the sun; their glances are doe-like.
My hidden ailment seized me,
I concealed it, but silence revealed it.
As she passed, I declared: “A tender branch swayed,”
“It moved after the south wind’s shift.”
She gazed and I said: “A startled gazelle,”
“Was frightened by a calamity amid the plain.”
And I declared: “The full moon on a perfect night,”
“Has adorned itself with stars from amongst the constellations.”
As she smiled, the light of her pearl-like mouth
Held the cure for love-sick hearts.
She bowed to exalt her Lord, and swayed
Before Him, our great friend.
O Abla, like your love or its multiples,
In my heart, when hope fades, there remains hope.
If time brings joy to me, then surely
In my high aspirations are misfortunes.
O Batman, You’ve Enchanted Me
By Jamill Ibn Buthainah
O Batman, you’ve enchanted me, so be generous,
And take your share of the generous and the gallant.
Perhaps a pending opportunity will arrive
That intertwines earnestness with jest.
She replied gently, after careful concealment:
“My love, Buthainah, is occupied with your attachment.”
If in my heart, there was only a small portion of what is true,
Then surely, I would have sent you letters.
They claim you have accepted mere falsehoods,
So now, is there for you a retreat from falsehood?
Yet falsehood, from whom I love the talk,
Is more pleasing to me than the loquacious humble.
My love remains with you until it connects me,
And if I fall for someone, my passion will not fade.
Your charms caught my heart, O Buthainah,
On the day of Hajun, your allure entangled.
You promised me, yet withdrew what you promised,
Making your immediate terms feel like distant ones.
And I grew weary when I saw my longing for you,
So it is more endearing to me from a humble perspective.
You yielded to reproach, and so you forsook me,
And I resisted your censurers, passionately against them.
They attempted to sever our connection,
But you will not succeed, even if they strive hard.
They returned to me when they sought out your disapproval,
When they tried to break loose from your grasp.
They were enraged at me without cause,
And I sincerely wished they could avenge from within me.
And they declare, “O Buthainah, you are miserly,”
And my soul would gladly pay for you from a stingy one!
Take My Blood, O One with the Scarf
By Yazid ibn Muawiya
Take my blood, O one with the scarf, for I
Have seen with my eyes in your fingers my blood.
I am envious of her from her father and mother
And from the glide of the toothpick in her mouth.
I envy her shoulders from her garments
If dressed upon her soft body.
And I begrudge the cups that kiss her lips
If they dare take their place in her mouth.
Take my blood from her, for I am her victim,
So my only request is that you do not kill my spirit.
And do not slay her if you can slay her,
But ask her how my blood came to be hers.
And tell her, “O the desire of my soul, I am
The casualty of passion and love, if only you knew.”
And do not think I have been slain by an instrument,
But rather, it was her fortitude that wounded me.
She has the wisdom of Luqman and the form of Joseph,
And the melody of David and the chastity of Maryam.
I share the sorrow of Jacob and the solitude of Yunus,
And the pain of Ayub and Adam’s regret.
If I had lamented her before she cried,
I would have healed my heart before regret.
But she wept before me, and thus urged me to weep,
She cried first, and so the advantage was hers.
I wept for the one whose exquisite beauty adorned her face,
No one compares to her among Arbs and non-Arabs.
In colors like this, and ample charms,
With eyes as bright as the crescent moon and a mouth like thyme.
With hair flowing like musk her scent spreads,
A smile reminiscent of pearls, perfectly arranged.
She signaled with her eyes, fearing for her family,
A silent indication as if distressed yet without speech.
I realized then that her eyes welcomed me,
“Welcome, I greet you, O my attached beloved.”
By God, if it weren’t for God, and the fear and hope,
I would have embraced her between Al-Hatim and Zamzam.
And I would have kissed her ninety-nine times,
With my hand, cheek, and mouth.
I even laid my arms on her and kissed her lips,
As she was permissible for me even while in ihram.
And when we met, I found her fingertips,
Stained, imitating the purple juice of blackberries.
So I told her, “You stained your fingers the shade from before me,
This is the rightful reward of a lover drawn to.”
She replied, revealing the passion inside her heart
With a tender sound that did not retreat from her lips.
“O live on, this is not a hue I recognized,”
So do not accuse me of slander and falsehood.
But when I saw distance from you,
Having been separated, my heart ached for you.
And I wept blood on the day of separation,
Wiped it with my hand, coloring my fingers red from my blood.
Longing Overwhelmed You
By Imru’ al-Qais
Your longing overwhelmed me when it once was brief,
And the gentle breeze caressed the native land of Hamir.
Kinani, who offered her love within my heart,
And a fragrance of musk in the land of my heart.
In my gaze, the tribe will not part, when they camped,
Alongside the side of the fountains in the area of Timur.
So I compared them with gardens when they bloomed,
Like the beautiful flowers in the gardens’ embrace.
Or the fields that stretch like the palms of Ibn Yamun,
Amongst ripe dates that mock the morning.
Thus are the proud and enormous branches,
Boasting of their different types of fruit, undeterred.
The families of Rabda with noble ancestry,
With their swords until they were satisfied and secured.
And the offspring of Rabda, their pride shall echo,
And their bond intact until the day emerges.
The tribes rejoiced with matching glances,
As the eyes swayed, until they became entranced.
As if my passion shone on the surface of stones,
Where the waves of the sea created a picturesque design.
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