She enjoys her bad reputation.
For someone out at night
she provides better cover
than the night itself.
She enters every house
and nobody knows
just how far she goes.
She’s always courteous and friendly
to everyone she meets;
her steps never bother the neighbors.
Her cape is never folded;
it’s busier than a flag
in the midst of battle.
When she learned
how useful she is
she also learned the difference
between crime and cleverness.
Translation by Cola Franzen
Man runs towards the grave,
And rivers hasten to the great deep
The end of all living is their death,
And the palace in time becomes a heap.
Nothing is further than the day gone by,
And nothing nearer than the day to come,
And both are far, far away
From the man hidden in the heart of the tomb.
Everything declines after reaching perfection, therefore let no man be beguiled by the sweetness of a pleasant life.
As you have observed, these are the decrees that are inconstant: he whom a single moment has made happy, has been harmed by many other moments;
And this is the abode that will show pity for no man, nor will any condition remain in its state for it.
Fate irrevocably destroys every ample coat of mail when Mashrifi swords and spears glance off without effect;
It unsheaths each sword only to destroy it even if it be an Ibn Dhi Yazan and the scabbard Ghumdan
Where are the crowned kings of Yemen and where are their jewel-studded diadems and crowns?
Where are [the buildings] Shaddad raised in Iram and where [the empire] the Sassanians ruled in Persia?
Where is the gold Qarun once possessed; where are `Ad and Shaddad and Qahtan?
An irrevocable decree overcame them all so that they passed away and the people came to be as though they had never existed.
The kingdoms and kings that had been came to be like what a sleeper has told about [his] dream vision.
Fate turned against Darius as well as his slayer, and as for Chosroes, no vaulted palace offered him protection.
It is as if no cause had ever made the hard easy to bear, and as if Solomon had never ruled the world.
The misfortunes brought on by Fate are of many different kinds, while Time has causes of joy and of sorrow.
For the accidents [of fortune] there is a consolation that makes them easy to bear, yet there is no consolation for what has befallen Islam.
An event which cannot be endured has overtaken the peninsula; one such that Uhud has collapsed because of it and Thahlan has crumbled!
The evil eye has struck [the peninsula] in its Islam so that [the land] decreased until whole regions and districts were despoiled of [the faith]
Therefore ask Valencia what is the state of Murcia; and where is Jativa, and where is Jaىn?
Where is Cordoba, the home of the sciences, and many a scholar whose rank was once lofty in it?
Where is Seville and the pleasures it contains, as well as its sweet river overflowing and brimming full?
[They are] capitals which were the pillars of the land, yet when the pillars are gone, it may no longer endure!
The tap of the white ablution fount weeps in despair, like a passionate lover weeping at the departure of the beloved,
Over dwellings emptied of Islam that were first vacated and are now inhabited by unbelief;
In which the mosques have become churches wherein only bells and crosses may be found.
Even the mihrabs weep though they are solid; even the pulpits mourn though they are wooden!
O you who remain heedless though you have a warning in Fate: if you are asleep, Fate is always awake!
And you who walk forth cheerfully while your homeland diverts you [from cares], can a homeland beguile any man after [the loss of] Seville?
This misfortune has caused those that preceded it to be forgotten, nor can it ever be forgotten for the length of all time!
O you who ride lean, thoroughbred steeds which seem like eagles in the racecourse;
And you who carry slender, Indian blades which seem like fires in the darkness caused by the dust cloud [of war],
And you who are living in luxury beyond the sea enjoying life, you who have strength and power in your homelands,
Have you no news of the people of Andalus, for riders have carried forth what men have said [about them]?
How often have the weak, who were being killed and captured while no man stirred, asked our help?
What means this severing of the bonds of Islam on your behalf, when you, 0 worshipers of God, are [our] brethren?
Are there no heroic souls with lofty ambitions; are there no helpers and defenders of righteousness?
O, who will redress the humiliation of a people who were once powerful, a people whose condition injustice and tyrants have changed?
Yesterday they were kings in their own homes, but today they are slaves in the land of the infidel!
Thus, were you to see them perplexed, with no one to guide them, wearing the cloth of shame in its different shades,
And were you to behold their weeping when they are sold, the matter would strike fear into your heart, and sorrow would seize you.
Alas, many a mother and child have been parted as souls and bodies are separated!
And many a maiden fair as the sun when it rises, as though she were rubies and pearls,
Is led off to abomination by a barbarian against her will, while her eye is in tears and her heart is stunned.
The heart melts with sorrow at such [sights], if there is any Islam or belief in that heart!
Tell the faqih on my behalf:
loving the beautiful one is my art.
My drink, with him from the glass,
and the hadra, with those gathered round,
Close by, good companions.
They lifted the weight from me.
Tell the faqih on my behalf:
loving the beautiful one is my art.
What kind of believer do you take me for?
The law revivifies me
and the truth annihilates me.
Know that I am a Sunni.
Tell the faqih on my behalf:
loving the beautiful one is my art.
And know that there is no one home
except you, so let’s get to the point.
Enter into the arena with me.
Have faith. Don’t push me away.
Tell the faqih on my behalf:
loving the beautiful one is my art.
If you could see me at home
when I raise the curtains
and my love is naked with me…
In union with him, I am made glad.
Tell the faqih on my behalf:
loving the beautiful one is my art.
So leave me be and spare me your delusions,
for you lust for yourself
and this world is your boudoir.
Wake up, you will see my beauty.
Tell the faqih on my behalf:
loving the beautiful one is my art.
Black hindquarters, white chest:
he flies on the wings of the wind.
When you look at him you see dark night
opening, giving way to dawn.
Sons of Shem and Ham live harmoniously
in him, and take no care for the words
of would-be troublemakers.
Men’s eyes light up when they see
reflected in his beauty
the clear strong black and white
of the eyes of beautiful women.
Rider, rider hurrying
Ever since the world was born,
Halt a moment at my spring
With the sunset and the morn.
Loiter where my river flows
Sliding like a speckled snake,
And the wizard zephyr blows
Weird enchantments for your sake.
Now we are far apart
one from the other
my heart has dried up
but my tears keep falling.
In losing you my days
have turned black.
When I was with you
even my nights were white.
It’s as though we never spent
that night together
with no third presence
save our two selves made one,
a night our lucky star
caused even gossips
who would spy on us
to turn away their eyes.
We were two secrets
held by the heart of darkness
until the tongue of dawn
threatened to denounce us.
Translation by Cola Franzen
Up he stands
To declare the darkness done for
The bird trimmed with a poppy
Who rolls his lustrous eyes for us
With song he calls to prayer
And he complies with his call
Beating his great plumes
Flexing his shoulder knuckles
The Emperor of Persia
Perhaps wove his crown
Personally Mary the Copt
Hung pendant rings from his ears
He snatched from the peacock
His most attractive cloak
And still not comforted took
His strut from a duck
Translation by Cola Franzen
A palm tree stands in the middle of Rusafa,
born in the West, far from the land of palms.
I said to it: How like me you are, far away and in exile,
in long separation from family and friends.
You have sprung from soil in which you are a stranger;
and I, like you, am far from home.
The beautiful pool,
a brimming eye,
has thick eyelashes of flowers.
Turtles cavort
in their capes of green algae.
Now they squabble on the bank
but when winter comes
they’ll dive below and hide.
At play they resemble
Christian soldiers wearing on their backs
their leather shields.
Poets Corner 