هل ذاك ثغر تبسم — Shabrawy

Is that a mouth smiling,

Or is that grace embodied?

Or a garden where song has risen,

Its blackbird trilling?

Or a fragrant breath that reminded us

Of the sweetness of a bygone time?

Or the north wind of Shahra,

With the fragrance of al-Qananim's valley?

Or the east wind, which, when it blew,

Banished anxiety and sorrow?

Or Nu'man's lightning, which, when

It appeared, gave an impression of radiance?

Or that nightingale of excellence

That gave voice to beauties?

Or that memory of al-Musalla,

Turning toward al-'Udhayb and making for it?

I used to reproach my age,

And reckon Time barren.

And how often my opinion soured,

And I said: O Time, how often, how often!

How many an ignoramus swears presumptuously,

While a man of merit suffers!

Ignorance has spread; as for

Merit—no merit is recognized.

And how often I sought high rank,

But it said, ‘No, no,’ and stubbornly persisted.

And I said: O Time, stop, stop!

Then it tormented me and muttered.

Then I said: My age is miserly

With merit, while God is more generous.

And my thought almost cried out:

The dwelling of high honors has crumbled!

Until I saw a marvel

Of your dazzling, abundant merit.

Then it told me: Praise of this man

Is a duty upon you, inescapable.

And in praising anyone else

There is undertaking what is not required.

Thus excellence is revealed

Through scrutiny, and concealed by ignorance.

This is glory—this!

So praise him, if you understand.

This is Ali ibn Taj;

This is the exalted, revered one.

This is a son of the Ancient House,

Beside Kada and al-Muhattam.

This is Mecca's son; look

At the one who has joined that precinct.

God is greatest! This is

A station where whoever seeks it gains.

This is a noble station,

From a stock that scorns reproach.

A root-stock of Quraysh:

You say: There is no sin there.

And a string of peerless pearls,

Nurtured by a sacred House.

His upbringing was among Najd's ban-trees

And the courtyards of that sealed abode.

Beauties beyond counting,

And their limit is unknown.

And if you seek their utmost extent,

They exhaust you; silence is safer.

O peerless one of the age, show kindness,

O son of al-Hatim and Zamzam.

O son of those of Quraysh

Who won the prize-bearing race;

They surpassed all creation in pride,

Through grandsire, maternal uncle, and paternal uncle.

You are the imam we would ransom,

Whether the adversary concedes or not.

You are the one who gained glory

Enough for mankind, were it divided.

You are the one at whose sight

Badi' of Hamadan would concede.

Or if Sa'd had good fortune,

He would have learned from you.

Oh, may God preserve such handwriting,

Whose meaning, through good fortune, has reached all.

I would ransom it, written and spoken,

Coming from hand and mouth.

If I say: Lofty handwriting,

His fortune is loftier and greater.

And if instead I say: A strong memory,

His understanding is stronger and sounder.

Or if I say: A pure branch,

The root is Taj, honored.

May God not hold Time to account

For the wrong it committed in the past.

I forgave my age when

I saw it bestow its bounty through you.

And since I found you uttering

Words like strung pearls,

I said: Distinctions are gifts,

Even if you are the last of your people.

God bless you, O scholar!

You have given, in excellence, what none...

So all your wording is grace,

And every meaning of yours is well-wrought.

So if you utter something wondrous,

It is wonder brought to perfection.

And if you compose verse,

You move every lovesick soul.

And if you speak in prose,

You render it clear, though it is obscure.

And whenever you utter a statement,

That statement is beyond dispute.

And if you establish a proof,

It is a proof that sets things straight.

What can I say when

I wish to speak?

Your radiant qualities surpass

What I can grasp and know.

O Time, you have shown favor; so forgive

What came from me, and have mercy.

And O my tongue, hold back,

And O fingers, advance;

And flow, and say: He is a necklace

Through which Time has shown its generosity.

And he has no equal

In essence, quality, or quantity.

And every beautiful quality

Of another has reached perfection in him.

And how can I praise him,

When his abundant merit is grander still?

And the sum of the matter is that I

Have fallen short—and God knows best.