pre-islamic-arabian-poets

"I have grown weary of the troubles of life. I know what has happened to-day and yesterday, before it, but verily, of the knowledge of what will happen to-morrow. I see death is like the blundering of a blind camel;—him whom he meets he kills, and he whom he misses lives and will become old. He who does not act with kindness in many affairs will be torn by teeth and trampled under foot. And he, who makes benevolent acts intervene before honor, increases his honor; and he, who does not avoid abuse, will be abused. He who keeps his word, will not be reviled; and he whose heart is guided to self-satisfying benevolence will not stammer. He who dreads the causes of death, they will reach him, even if he ascends the tracts of the heavens with a ladder. He, who is always seeking to bear the burdens of other people, and does not excuse himself from it, will one day by reason of his abasement, repent. Many silent ones you see, pleasing to you, but their excess in wisdom or deficiency will appear at the time of talking. The tongue of a man is one half, and the other half is his mind, and here is nothing besides these two, except the shape of the blood and the flesh. Verily, as to the folly of an old man there is no wisdom after it, but the young man after his folly may become wise."

"While I spoke thus to myself, my companions stopped their coursers by my side, and said, "Perish not through despair, but act with fortitude." Ah, said I, the vehicles which bore away my fair one on the morning when the tribe of Malec departed, and their camels were traversing the banks of Deda, resembled large ships Sailing from Aduli; or vessels of the merchant Ibn Yamin, which the mariner now turns obliquely, and now steers in a direct course; Ships, which cleave the foaming waves with their prows, as a boy at his play divides with his hand the collected earth.In that tribe was a lovely antelope, with black eyes, dark ruddy lips, and a beautiful neck, gracefully raised to crop the fresh berries of erac—a neck adorned with two strings of pearls and topazes. She strays from her young, and feeds with the herd of roes in the tangled thicket, where she browses the edges of the wild fruit, and covers herself with a mantle of leaves. She smiles, and displays her bright teeth, rising from their dark-coloured bases, like a privet-plant in full bloom, which pierces a bank of pure sand moistened with dew: To her teeth the sun has imparted his brilliant water; but not to the part where they grow, which is sprinkled with lead-ore, while the ivory remains unspotted. Her face appears to be wrapped in a veil of sunbeams; unblemished is her complexion, and her skin is without a wrinkle."

"Weep for me, my eyes! Spill your tears And mourn for me the vanished kings Hujr ibn 'Amru's princely sons Led away to slaughter at eventide; If only they had died in combat Not in the lands of Banu Marina! No water was there to wash their fallen heads, And their skulls lie spattered with blood Pecked over by birds Who tear out first the eyebrows, then the eyes."

"Fair were they also, diffusing the odor of musk as they moved, Like the soft zephyr bringing with it the scent of the clove."

"Thus the tears flowed down on my breast, remembering days of love; The tears wetted even my sword-belt, so tender was my love."

"Has anything deceived you about me, that your love is killing me, And that verily as often as you order my heart, it will do what you order?"

"I passed by the sentries on watch near her, and a people desirous of killing me; If they could conceal my murder, being unable to assail me openly."

"DESOLATE are the mansions of the fair, the stations in Minia, where they rested, and those where they fixed their abodes! Wild are the hills of Goul, and deserted is the summit of Rijaam. The canals of Rayaan are destroyed: the remains of them are laid bare and smoothed by the floods, like characters engraved on the solid rocks. Dear ruins! Many a year has been closed, many a month, holy and unhallowed, has elapsed, since I exchanged tender vows with their fair inhabitants! The rainy constellations of spring have made their hills green and luxuriant: the drops from the thunder-clouds have drenched them with profuse as well as with gentle showers: Showers, from every nightly cloud, from every cloud veiling the horizon at day-break, and from every evening cloud, responsive with hoarse murmurs. Here the wild eringo-plants raise their tops: here the antelopes bring forth their young, by the sides of the valley: and here the ostriches drop their eggs. The large-eyed wild-cows lie suckling their young, a few days old—their young, who will soon become a herd on the plain. The torrents have cleared the rubbish, and disclosed the traces of habitations, as the reeds of a writer restore effaced letters in a book; Or as the black dust, sprinkled over the varied marks on a fair hand, brings to view with a brighter tint the blue stains of woad. I stood asking news of the ruins concerning their lovely habitants; but what avail my questions to dreary rocks, who answer them only by their echo?"

"Yea, everything is vain, except only God alone, and every pleasant thing must one day vanish away! And all the race of men—there shall surely come among them a Fearful Woe, whereby their fingers shall grow pale: And every mother's son, though his life be lengthened out to the utmost bound, comes home at last to the Grave: And every man shall know one day his labour's worth, when his loss or gain is cast up on the Judgment Day."

"Dear ruins! Many a year has been closed, many a month, holy and unhallowed, has elapsed, since I exchanged tender vows with their fair inhabitants!"

"I stood asking news of the ruins concerning their lovely habitants; but what avail my questions to dreary rocks, who answer them only by their echo?"

"The Prophet Muhammad is said to have called Imru’ al-Qays "the leader of the poets into hellfire.""

"Stop, oh my friends, let us pause to weep over the remembrance of my beloved. Here was her abode on the edge of the sandy desert between Dakhool and Howmal. The traces of her encampment are not wholly obliterated even now; For when the South wind blows the sand over them the North wind sweeps it away. The courtyards and enclosures of the old home have become desolate; The dung of the wild deer lies there thick as the seeds of pepper. On the morning of our separation it was as if I stood in the gardens of our tribe, Amid the acacia-shrubs where my eyes were blinded with tears by the smart from the bursting pods of colocynth. As I lament thus in the place made desolate, my friends stop their camels; They cry to me "Do not die of grief; bear this sorrow patiently." Nay, the cure of my sorrow must come from gushing tears. Yet, is there any hope that this desolation can bring me solace?"

"Not even the Euphrates, agitated by a storm Its waves throwing their foam on the shores, When it is filled up by overflowing, tempestuous wadis, Carrying broken branches and brushwood with them, When the sailor, terrified, clings to his oars After continuous troubles and toils, Is more powerful then Al-Nu'man bestowing favours, Nor is yesterday's gift in the way of today's present. This is my praise for you, If you are pleased with it, I did not offer it– may you never be cursed! – for gain. Nay, it is my apology, And if it is of no avail, Then its poet is afflicted by misfortune, indeed."