Sol 6.1

  1. Love, when natural, is praised for its virtues;

    There is no good in love that is contrived.

  2. The soul grows fond of what its nature loves,

    And may loathe and disdain one given to affectation.

  3. Indeed, I was fashioned for yearning and love;

    From it I came into being; I know nothing else.

  4. With it I was born, and suckled its first milk;

    And sick with it I have been since I was an unborn child.

  5. Love sends me plunging among the mountains, distraught,

    From one lofty peak I am thrown, to another hurled.

  6. I was ensnared by love for a slender youth; the lions' forest

    Is his covert, though he is a long-lashed gazelle.

  7. He loves flight and has no mercy on a lover;

    So too the fawn loves flight and grows accustomed to it.

  8. Dusky and dark-lipped, his dark lips are honey-sweet;

    It is limpid water; it is nectar, intoxicating wine.

  9. Coquettish, with red-tinged whites and kohl-lined, dark-pupilled eyes,

    Deep-black in gaze—he is the keen, polished, fine-edged sword.

  10. His eyelids droop; their magic has come to

    Capture and snatch away reason, even if that magic were unreal.

  11. They shoot at hearts with their arrows and their shafts;

    Without so much as blinking, they wound the eye.

  12. The sun of his face and the full moon of his forehead

    Rise above his brows' two crescents and tower over them.

  13. In that sun the two burned, and sought an escape;

    Yet when the two turned over, escape was gone.

  14. A full moon wearing the Pleiades as earrings—who has seen

    A full moon so earringed in all the worlds?

  15. They compared him to the morning sun; had they

    Compared the daylight sun to him, they would have been fair.

  16. His temple-lock, the wāw of conjunction, appeared like a scorpion;

    Yet even if it stings the heart, it shows no pity.

  17. Roses show amid the jasmine of his cheeks,

    As though blood had soaked the cotton there.

  18. The water of modesty watered his cheeks, and they sprouted

    Myrtle and ripe roses that are never plucked.

  19. He struts in the robe of coquetry, luxuriating,

    And swaggers in beauty's mantle, reveling.

  20. He sways like a tender branch when it bends,

    And would almost snap, were it not for his suppleness.

  21. A judge who wrongs the lover by his verdict,

    Though he himself is the adversary—does an adversary act fairly?

  22. His witnesses are the reproachers, vouched for by

    A faultfinder, excessive and extravagant in his reproaches.

  23. I made him judge over my heart, and he decreed for it

    That it should perish in passionate love for him.

  24. Alas for my heart! Ah, the burning heat of longing!

    And when do groans and lamentation avail?

  25. O my reproacher, his abandonment is enough for one enslaved by love;

    How long, then, will you seek to blame and berate me?

  26. Will you not soften at a plight that draws pity from

    Deaf rocks themselves, and show mercy if you understand?

  27. What is this reproach? The one you blame is dead,

    Blind and deaf, destroyed by yearning.

  28. You cannot make the dead hear; if you had tasted love,

    You would excuse me and know what you do not know.

  29. I am the tormented one, chosen for yearning,

    And whoever it chooses has no liking for reproach.

  30. So too high honors choose their Ali,

    And their Ali—in him they dwell and gain distinction.

  31. That is the son of As'ad, through whom they have gained honor,

    And through none besides him did they gain distinction.

  32. The lion, the mighty champion, the hero before whose

    Majesty lions bow and tremble.

  33. He plunges into the sea of war beneath its swirling dust,

    And never disdains to plunge into it.

  34. His swords beneath the dust-cloud are like

    Lightning in darkness, when it flashes into view in the dark.

  35. Never did he duel with horsemen without beginning

    To snatch their souls from between their ribs.

  36. The blood of their necks poured out of them,

    So their necks became noses streaming blood.

  37. The horsemen upon their saddles seemed

    Like the growth of hilltops, but growth that does not bend.

  38. How often he cleaves their bodies with his sharp sword,

    And how often, when he cleaves them, he cuts them in halves.

  39. Their heads seem fruit that has risen high,

    And with his cutting sword he reaches up to them and plucks.

  40. Never did the tyranny of his swords grow fierce in battle

    But al-Ahnaf became manifest in him.

  41. Peerless in his age in honor and gallantry,

    The lion-cub of nobility, described by noble deeds.

  42. A sea of generosity, whose surge endures

    In bounty, never ceasing to give.

  43. He gives as one who fears no poverty,

    With a cheerfulness he never needs to feign.

  44. No sooner are his visitors a minute late

    Than he is looking out along the roads.

  45. He is distressed if his giving slackens for a minute,

    And almost gives to the very dust, casting gifts about.

  46. Sweet of speech, his words nourish

    Our souls; our minds, too, drink them in.

  47. He offers his speech finely cast, with gracious delicacy;

    The sweetest speech is that of one who speaks graciously.

  48. He fashions it as a jewel, an earring for the ears,

    And with it their life is adorned, and they are decked with earrings.

  49. O noble-hearted one who dwells in the heights,

    Whose glory adorns them throughout all time,

  50. Behold a maiden strung from the pearls of praise for you,

    Her words are honey and wine for the minds.

  51. She comes walking to you, possessing no eloquence,

    So, from modesty, she pauses on that account.

  52. Grant her acceptance, for through its beauty

    It may lift away her shame and dispel it.

  53. Be safe and remain the peerless one of the age, and its sun,

    Which never sets, nor has any eclipse overtaken it,

  54. As long as lightning flashes, as long as gardens smile,

    When they see the clouds' eye shedding tears,

  55. As long as the meadow is arrayed in the pearls of its flowers,

    As long as gray doves sing and call among the branches.

Sol 6.1