Verbal Jewels from Al-Andalus

  

Remembering Silves

 

Well, Abu Bakr,

greet my home place in Silves

and ask the people there

if, as I think, they still remember me.

 

Greet the Palace of the Balconies

on behalf of a young man

still nostalgic for that place.

 

Warriors like lions lived there

and white gazelles

in what beautiful forests

and in what beautiful lairs!

 

How many pleasurable nights I spent

in the shadow of the palace

with women of opulent hips

and delicate waists:

 

blonds and brunettes.

My soul remembers them

as shining swords and dark lances.

 

With one girl I spent

many delicious nights

beside the bend of the river.

Her bracelet resembled

the curve of the current

 

and as the hours went by

she offered me the wine

of her glance or that of her glass

and sometimes that of her lips.

 

The strings of her lute

wounded by the plectrum

caused me to shiver

as if I had heard a melody

played by swords on the

neck tendons of the enemy.

 

When she took off her cloak

and revealed her waist,

a flowering willow branch,

it was like a bud

opening to reveal the flower.

--King Al-Mu‘tamid of Sevilla*

 

(*Al-Mu‘tamid, the “Poet-King” of Sevilla, reigned from 1068 to 1091. He was dethroned and then exiled to Aghmat (Morocco) by the Berber Almoravids whom he himself had invited to Spain to help the Moorish rulers fight Alfonso VI. He died in captivity in Aghmat in 1095. With his exile the great age of Islamic culture began to decline in Spain.)

 

 

 

Chastity 

 Although she was ready to give

herself to me, I abstained

and did not accept

the temptation Satan offered.

 

She came unveiled in the night.

Illuminated by her face,

night put aside its shadowy

veils as well.

 

Each one of her glances

could cause hearts to turn over.

 

But I clung to the divine precept

that condemns lust and reined in

the capricious horses of my passion

so that my instinct

would not rebel against chastity.

 

And so I passed the night with her

like a thirsty little camel

whose muzzle keeps it from nursing.

 

She was a field of fruit and flowers

offering one like me no other enjoyment

than sight and scent.

 

Know then that I am not

one of those beasts gone wild

who take gardens for pastures.

 

--Ibn Faraj

10^th century, Jaén

 

 

Grainfield

Look at the ripe wheat

bending before the wind

like squadrons of horsemen

fleeing in defeat, bleeding

from the wounds of the poppies.

--Ibn ‘Iyad

1083-1149, Central Andalusia

 

Reflection of Wine

Light passing through wine

reflects on the fingers

of the cupbearer

dyeing them red

as juniper stains the muzzle of the antelope.

--Abu l-Hasan ‘Ali ibn Hisn

11^th century, Sevilla

 

 

Serene Evening

A serene evening.

We spend it drinking wine.

The sun, going down,

lays its check against the earth

to rest.

 The breeze lifts

the coattails of the hills.

The skin of the sky

is as smooth as the pelt

of the river.

 How lucky we are to find

this spot for our sojourn

with doves cooing

for our greater delight.

Birds sing,

branches sigh

and darkness drinks up

the red wine of sunset.

 --Muhammad ibn Ghalib al-Rusafi

12^th century, Ruzafa, Valencia

 

The Rooster

 Sparks shooting from his eyes

and wearing a poppy on his head

he arises to announce the death of night.

 When he crows he himself listens

to his call to prayer

then hurriedly beats his great wings

against his body.

 It seems the king of Persia

gave him his crown

and Maria the Copt, sister of Moses,

hung the pendant around his neck.

He snitched the peacock’s dressiest coat

and to top if off

his strutting walk

he stole from a duck.

 --Al-As‘ad Ibrahim ibn Billitah

11^th century, Toledo

 

 

The Goblets

 

The goblets were heavy

when they were brought to us

 

but filled with fine wine

they became so light

 

they were on the point of flying away

with all their contents

 

just as our bodies are lightened

by the spirits.

 

--Idris ibn al-Yamani

11^th century, Ibiza

 

Leavetaking

On the morning they left

we said goodbye

filled with sadness

for the absence to come.

 

Inside the palanquins

on the camels’ backs

I saw their faces beautiful as moons

behind veils of gold cloth.

 

Beneath the veils

tears crept like scorpions

over the fragrant roses

of their cheeks.

 

These scorpions do not harm

the cheek they mark.

They save their sting

for the heart of the sorrowful lover.

 

--Ibn Jakh

11^th century, Badajoz

 

Split My Heart

 

How I wish I could split my heart

with a knife

put you inside

then close up my chest

 

so that you would be in my heart

and not in another’s

until the resurrection

and the day of judgment.

 

There you would stay while I lived

and after my death

you would remain buried deep in my heart

in the darkness of the tomb.

 

--Ibn Hazm

994-1063, Córdoba

 

Walnut

 

Its covering is composed

of two halves so joined

it’s a pleasure to see:

like eyelids closed in sleep.

 

Cleave it with a knife

and you will say the convex side

is an eye bulging out

straining to see

 

while the inside is an ear

because of the convolutions

and crevices.

 

--Abu Bakr Muhammad ibn al-Qutiyyah

11^th century, Sevilla

 

 

Mourning in Andalusia

If white is the color

of mourning in Andalusia,

it is a proper custom.

 

Look at me,

I dress myself in the white

of white hair

in mourning for youth.

 

--Abu l-Hasan al-Husri

“The Blind Man”  11^th century   Eastern Andalusia

 

 

 

Insomnia

 

When the bird of sleep

thought to nest

in my eye

 

it saw the eyelashes

and flew away

for fear of nets.

 

--Abu ‘Amir ibn al-Hammarah

12^th century  Eastern Andalusia

 

 

Rain Over the River

 

The wind does the delicate work

of a goldsmith

crimping water into mesh

for a coat of mail.

 

Then comes the rain

and rivets the pieces together

with little nails.

 

--Abu l-Qasim al-Manishi

12th century   Sevilla

 

 

Honey River

 

Stop beside Honey River

stop and ask

 

about a night I stayed there

until dawn, despite the gossips,

 

drinking the wine that comes

from the mouth or cutting

the rose of bashfulness.

 

We embraced like the limbs

of the trees embrace

over the stream.

 

There were cups of cool wine;

the Northwind was our cupbearer.

 

Flowers offered us

the aloe’s fragrance.

 

Reflections of floating lights

pointed like lances

at the cuirasse of the river.

 

There we stayed until

the jewels of frost

forced us to separate.

 

The nightingale’s song

made me feel sadder still.

 

--Ibn Abi Rawh

12^th century  Algeciras

 

 

Black Horse with White Chest

 

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.

 

--Ibn Sa‘id al-Maghribi

1214-1274                        Central Andalusia

 

 

The Wind

 

There is no better procuress

than the wind

because it lifts garments

and uncovers hidden

parts of the body

 

weakens the resistance

of branches

and makes them lean over

and kiss the faces of pools.

 

No wonder the wind is used

as a go-between

to carry messages back and forth

between friends and lovers.

 

--Ibn Sa‘id al-Maghribi

1214-1274    Central Andalusia

 

 

The Fountain

 

What a beautiful fountain

bombarding the sky with shooting stars

that leap agile as acrobats.

 

Gushing loops of water slide out

and race toward the basin

like terrified vipers.

 

Used to running furtively

underground, the water flees

when it enters an open space.

 

Resting peacefully in its new place

the bubbling water smiles

revealing pretty teeth,

 

a mouth so sweet

enamored trees bend over and kiss it.

--Ibn al-Ra’i‘ah

13^th century   Sevilla

 

 

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