رضى بقضاء الله فهو مصيب — Ibn Shakeel

رِضى بِقَضاءِ اللَهِ فَهوَ مُصيبُ

وَصَبراً عَلى الأَحداثِ فَهيَ تَنوبُ

Be content with God's decree, for it is right,

and bear calamities patiently, for they recur.

خَليلَيَّ قَد وارى التُرابُ أَحِبَّتي

فَلَم يَبقَ لي فَوقَ التُرابِ حَبيبُ

My two friends, the earth has buried my loved ones,

and no beloved remains for me above the earth.

أَقَلّا وُقوفاً بِالمَنازِلِ أَوقِفا

فَإَنَّ الَّذي تَستَبعِدانِ قَريبُ

Linger little at the dwellings—or halt;

for what you two deem distant is near.

أَلَم تُخبَرا عَن صاحِبِ القَبرِ إِنَّهُ

بِمَرأى مِنَ الأَهلَينِ وَهوَ غَريبُ

Have you two not been told of the grave's inhabitant—that he

is within sight of his kin, yet a stranger?

تَناذَرَهُ الخِلّانُ يَأساً فَأَصبَحوا

لَهُم جيئَةٌ مِن حَولِهِ وَذَهوبُ

His friends warned one another away from him in despair, and now

they come and go around him.

وَأَيُّ نَوى أَنأى مِنَ القَبرِ شُقَّةً

وَأَيُّ بَقاءٍ بِالمَماتِ يَطيبُ

What separation sets a greater distance than the grave,

and what continued life can be sweet amid death?

عَلى الجَدَثِ المَهجورِ عوجا فَسَلِّما

سَقاهُ الحَيا الوَسمِيُّ حينَ يَصوبُ

Turn aside to the abandoned grave and offer greetings;

may the life-giving autumn rain water it as it falls.

وَإِلّا فَعَيني إِن أَبى الغَيثُ مُزنَةٌ

يَدِرُّ شَمالُ صَوبِها وَجنوبُ

Otherwise, if rain refuses, my eye is a rain cloud,

its downpour streaming northward and southward.

إِذا هاجَها ذِكرُ الأَحِبَّةِ أَجهَشَت

وَأَسبَلَ دَمعٌ بِالدِماءِ مَشوبُ

When remembrance of loved ones stirs it, it bursts into tears,

and tears stream down, mingled with blood.

تَأَوينَني هَمّي فَبِتُّ كَأَنَّني

عَلى مُستَقِلّاتِ النُجومِ رَقيبُ

My grief visited me at night, and I spent the night as though

a watcher over the rising stars.

كَأَنَّ اِطِّلاعَ الشُهبِ بَينَ مَحاجِري

فَمِن ناظِري تَبدو وَفيهِ تَغيبُ

As though the stars rose within my eye sockets,

appearing from my eye and vanishing within it.

كَأَنَّ الدُجى وَالشُهبُ هَمّي

وَنارَهُ إِذا شَبَّ مِنها في الضُلوعِ لَهيبُ

As though the darkness and the stars were my grief

and its fire, when a flame from it flares within my ribs.

تَقَطَّعُ أَنفاسي فَأَقطَعُ لَيلَتي

حَنيناً كَما حَنَّت رَوائِمٌ نيبُ

My breaths break off, and I pass my night

in yearning, like aged she-camels longing for their young.

أَقولُ وَنَفسي وَالأَسى قَد تَمازَجا

وَقَلبِيَ مِن حَرِّ الفِراقِ يَذوبُ

I speak, my soul and sorrow having mingled,

and my heart melts from separation's heat.

أَلا مِثلَ لي فَإِنَّهُ لي مُعجِزٌ

وَإِنّي لِأَمثالِ الوَرى لَضَروبُ

Is there no likeness for me? It is beyond my power,

though I am prolific at drawing likenesses of humankind.

إِذا قُلتُ في شَيءٍ كَأَنّي كُنتُهُ

وَسِرُّ اِتِّخاذِ المُشبِهينَ عَجيبُ

Whenever I speak of a thing, it is as though I were it—

and strange is the secret of the comparison-makers' choices.

أَنا المَيتُ وَالثَكلانُ وَالصَبُّ وَالشَجي

فَأَيُّ شَبيهٍ بَعدَ ذاكَ أُصيبُ

I am the dead one, the bereaved, the lovesick, the sorrowful;

what likeness, after these, can I find?

وَما سَكَني إِلّا ضَريحٌ كَأَنَّهُ

لِأُنسي بِهِ ظَبٌ أَحَم رَبيبُ

My only solace is a tomb, as though it were,

through my fondness for it, a dark, hand-reared gazelle.

أَعاوِدُ لَثمَ التُرب فيهِ كَأَنَّهُ

لِرَشفي لَهُ ثَغرٌ أَغَرُّ شَبيبُ

I return to kiss its earth, as though it were,

for me to sip from, a radiant, youthful mouth.

أَقامَ عَلِيُّ في ثَراهُ مُغَيَّباً

وَلِلبَدرِ مِن بَعدِ الطُلوعِ غُروبُ

Ali abides, hidden in its earth,

and the full moon sets after it rises.

بَعيداً عَنِ الإِخوانِ رَهنَ قَررَةٍ

تَضَوَّعُ مِن أَنفاسِهِ وَتَطيبُ

Far from his brothers, held within a hollow

that gives off fragrance from his breath and grows sweet.

عَلى سَفَرٍ لا زادَ فيهِ سِوى التُقى

وَلا ظاعِنَ الأَقوامِ عَنهُ يَؤوبُ

On a journey with no provision but piety,

from which no traveler among humankind returns.

أَخي سَلَبَتنيهِ الخُطوبُ مُشيحَةً

وَما الدَهرُ إِلّا سالِبٌ وَسَليبُ

My brother—calamities resolutely snatched him from me;

and time is nothing but a despoiler and one despoiled.

وَكُنتُ أُرَجّي أَن تَزيدَ حَياتَهُ

حَياتي فَشانَتها عَلَيَّ شُعوبُ

I had hoped that his life would be lengthened

by mine; but Death marred my life for me.

وَكُنتُ أُرَجّيهِ لِكُلِّ مُلِمَّةٍ

فَقالَ الرَدى إِنَّ الرَجاءَ كَذوبُ

I had counted on him in every calamity,

but Death said, 'Hope is deceitful.'

وَكانَ سَريعاً حينَ يُدعى إِلى النَدا

وَكَم مِن فَتىً يُدعى وَلَيسَ يُجيبُ

He was swift when summoned to generosity,

and how many a young man is called but does not answer!

وَكانَ حَياً في المَحلِ يَعلَمُ ضَيفُهُ

إِذا أَمَّهُ أَنَّ المَحَلَّ خَصيبُ

He was rain in drought; his guest knew,

when he sought him out, that his abode was fertile.

وَلَم يَكُ ذ عَيبٍ وَلا كانَ عائِباً

وَلَكِن نَقِيَّ اللِبسَتَينِ أَديبُ

He had no flaw, nor was he a fault-finder,

but pure in both his garments, well-mannered.

فَتىً هُوَ حَدُّ السَيفِ إِن رُمتَ ضَيمَهُ

وَغُصنٌ لِمَن رامَ السَماحَ رَطيبُ

A young man, the edge of a sword if you sought to wrong him,

and a tender, green branch to whoever sought generosity.

غَنِيٌّ عَنِ الأَقوامِ لَيسَ بِباسِطٍ

يَداً لِثَوابٍ وَهوَ كانَ يُثيبُ

Independent of others, he would not stretch out

a hand for reward, though he himself gave rewards.

جَميلٌ فَأَمّا وَجهُهُ فَمُنَوَّرٌ

طَليقٌ وَأَمّا صَدرُهُ فَرَحيبُ

Handsome—as for his face, it was radiant,

cheerful; as for his breast, it was spacious.

رُزيناهُ لَمّا لَم يَكُن فيهِ مَطعَنٌ

وَلَم يَكُ راجي الخَيرِ مِنهُ يَخيبُ

We suffered his loss when no blemish could be found in him,

and no one seeking good from him was disappointed.

وَأَلوى بِهِ المِقدارُ غَضاً شَبابُهُ

تَميلُ إِلَيهِ أَعيُنٌ وَقُلوبُ

Fate swept him away with his youth still fresh,

eyes and hearts inclining toward him.

فَضاعَفَ وَجدي وَاِستَحَرَّ مُصابُهُ

وَوَلّى عَزائي عَنهُ وَهوَ مُريبُ

So my grief doubled, and the pain of his loss grew fierce,

and my consolation fled from him, beset by doubt.

وَلَيسَ كَمَفقودٍ تَقادَمَ عَهدُهُ

وَغَطّى عَلَيهِ مَسحَنا وَمَشيبُ

He is not like one lost whose time is long past,

and whom our wiping away and gray hair have veiled.

أَقولُ وَقَد غَنَّت حَمامَةُ أَيكَةٍ

وَمالَ بِها بَينَ الأَراكِ قَضيبُ

I say, as a dove in a thicket sings,

and a branch among the arak trees sways with her:

أَساجِعَةَ الأَغصانِ نوحاً فَإِنَّني

عَلى النَوحِ مِن بَينِ اللُحونِ طَروبُ

O cooing bird of the branches, lament—for I

delight in lament above all melodies.

سُقيتُ حُمَيا الشَوقِ فَالهَمُّ سُكرُها

وَأَكثَرُ ما أَلهى المَشوقَ نَحيبُ

I was given longing's potent draught; grief is its intoxication,

and sobbing is what most absorbs the yearning one.

وَمُستَبشِرٍ أَبدى السُرورَ لِنَكبَةٍ

أَلَمَّت بِنا وَالحادِثاتُ ضُروبُ

And to one who rejoiced, showing delight at a calamity

that befell us—for calamities are of many kinds—

فَقُلتُ اِنتَظِر عُقبى الزَمانِ فَرُبَّما

سَقاكَ ذُنوباً إِن كَفاكَ ذُنوبُ

I said, 'Await time's outcome; perhaps

it will make you drink a bucketful, if a bucketful suffices you.'

فَنَحنُ بَكينا نَبتَغي الأَجرَ في البُكا

وَنَحنُ صَبَرنا وَالصَبورُ لَبيبُ

We have wept, seeking reward in our weeping,

and we have been patient; the patient man is wise.

وَما جَزَعي لِلحادِثاتِ اِستِكانَةً

وَلَكِنَّهُ لِلهالِكينَ نَصيبُ

My anguish before calamities is not submission,

but a share owed to the departed.

وَلا جَلَدي عَنهُم سَلُوّاً وَقَسوَةً

وَلَكِنَّ عودُ الأَكرَمينَ صَليبُ

Nor is my fortitude regarding them forgetfulness or hardness,

but the timber of the noblest is strong.

فَطوبى لِمَن لَم يُعنَ إِلّا بِنَفسِهِ

وَيا رَبَّنا إِنّي إِلَيكَ أَتوبُ

Blessed is he who is concerned only with himself,

and, O our Lord, to You I repent.