راق الزمان وبالجمال الأنفس — Mufti Fathallah

Time has grown fair, and in the choicest beauty

spring has arrived—oh, the joy of souls!

Spring has revived its youth and restored it;

after gray old age, it dons the robe of youth.

It poured down upon the gardens, until I fancied it

pouring threads of the most precious silver.

With them they wove their leaves and flowers,

and took shape in varied, assorted forms:

blue beside white, beside red,

with radiant green and dusky red—

like lapis lazuli, then silver, then gold,

then emerald, with red made of fine silk.

And enter the gardens: you will see the flowers as jewels;

their trees have been crowned at their tops.

So pluck the roses with your two eyes, gazing intently,

and kissing their cheeks with your nose.

Then embrace within them the brides of their blossoms,

and do so openly before the eyes of the narcissus.

Fill the cups of pure delight with fellowship, and sip

the wine of joy from the lips of the cups.

And enter with it those gardens, singing,

and sit beside their drinking companions and enjoy their company.

Exchanging tales of love with their discerning men—

the sweetest talk is with a discerning companion.

For the rose, opening upon its branches,

is like stars lighting the wing of deepest darkness.

Its buds are domes of agate; when they rise

upon emerald pillars, every architect is bewildered.

And the jasmine is silver coins scattered upon

emerald canopies, a delight to souls.

And the chrysanthemums are like smiling mouths;

in them, the gardens' faces have never frowned.

Then the tender anemones: each anemone

is an exquisite ruby cup, most ingeniously wrought.

I fancied its seed like a speck of ambergris

that had clung to the lips of one pearly-toothed and dark-lipped.

And the ban tree has leafed, its flowers rising above it,

a delightful sight, with the softest touch.

So wicks of gold have been hung

on green banners now made of fine silk.

Where doves and the nightingale sing aloud,

singing, some in early morning and some before dawn;

where birds frolic in these gardens,

some vocal and singing, and others mute.

And the wine shows bubbles in the jars,

and its tongue now says: Rise and drink.

So make the wine ewers bleed

molten agates from their aquiline noses.

Pour the blood of the grape-cluster into bowls of

costly silver, fashioned into the finest cups.

Drink lavishly, and do not fear reproach,

from the morning draught until the evening draught—you do no wrong.

And take it from the hand of the full moon who

stole minds that had never been stolen before him.

The wine is a sun, and its giver is our full moon;

and before him the sun dons the robe of shame.

That you may see the conjunction of the two luminaries in one gathering;

and in me is the conjunction of the two luminaries in one gathering.

Let him begin drinking, and drink what he leaves;

the beloved's remaining draught brings healing to souls.

Drink to the roses of cheeks, for they

and their beauty are the finest planting-ground for roses.

And likewise to the myrtle of his cheek-down, and the narcissus

in his drowsy gaze, even if he does not doze.

For the most delicious wine-drinking—indeed, the sweetest—is that which

is seen beside the roses of cheeks and narcissus eyes.

When his drunkenness takes hold, in his mouth

is the water of life: hasten to it and drink.

If you win a sip of his saliva,

you will live for ages, and death will not touch you.

And consider the forms of praise, ascending

the pinnacle of eloquence and the choicest rhetorical artistry,

and, among them, go to great lengths in praising the man of eminence,

Abd al-Ghani, discerning son of a discerning father.

Master of the sciences, possessor of learning, to whom

every author and teacher has submitted;

the meticulous, trustworthy, truthful, pious man,

sound in transmitted reports, never concealing his sources;

the scholar, learned authority, and Shafi‘i jurist,

an ocean beside whom every ocean is forgotten;

a lord, resolute and keen-witted, before whom

men of virtue have bowed their heads;

the grand, valiant, awe-inspiring man of eminence,

chief of chiefs in assembly and gathering;

accomplished, gallant, distinguished in handsome bearing,

clothed in virtues and majesty.

Whenever he appears among his peers, he becomes

like the sun among the planets that course and hide.

They do not resemble him; he is indeed their chief.

A chief is not like one who has never led.

Master of fluency, eloquence, and intelligence,

the defiant rhymes obey him, never becoming unruly.

His wondrous, eloquent verse puts to shame

the verse of Sahban and al-Mutalammis.

Had there reached the ears of Ya‘rub

his words, they would have called him mute.

O gallant man, unrivaled in eminence,

in perfect mastery and keen discernment,

you gifted me a lovely maiden, born of

a lofty, pure, and sacred breath.

A lithe virgin, a graceful, tender beauty,

whose like never stirred in any mind but yours.

No creative minds beget a maiden like her,

who captivates minds amid the delight of fellowship.

She clothes fluency and eloquence in a robe

woven by rhetorical artistry, worn by none but her.

How fine a robe are fluency and eloquence!

How rare a garment it is among all attire!

I have given her, from my own thought, a handmaid,

clad in a cloak, not sheer fabrics of fine silk.

Value her fairly, and mend her heart;

do not undervalue her wares—do not undervalue them.

Look upon her with acceptance, as a kindness;

acceptance is her greatest comforter.

Bestow upon her, as a favor, the robes of approval;

your approval is the finest thing she can wear.

Remain safe, and endure with glory from the sphere of eminence,

at the summit of the lofty, starless sphere,

as long as night comes and darkness inhabits it,

as long as dawn erases the gloom of deepest night,

as long as a wind blows and a nightingale sings,

as long as a bough sways with its smooth form,

as long as a poem's ending is sweet in praising you,

wafting like musk, perfuming souls.