Sol 6

  1. A song from one who laments separation and distance,

    while tears from my eyes pour down the slopes.

  2. From my eyes, their crimson course runs down my cheek;

    the traces of grief show along its side.

  3. A streak has appeared there from estrangement,

    and from losing one whose companionship cannot be set aside.

  4. O fire of my heart, whenever I say you will go out,

    the blaze within my ribs gives you fresh flames.

  5. Its heat burns in the liver of the lovesick,

    and a fire like burning ghada wood always blazes in my soul.

  6. That ghada fire has seized the innermost heart,

    and besides my fire, another illness clings to me.

  7. I have an illness that defies medicine and remedy,

    lodged between the heart's core, the breast, and the ribs.

  8. Between breast and heart it has spread its roots;

    I have treated it, yet its affliction persists.

  9. I treated it for ninety full nights,

    and the physician who cared for me was baffled by its cure.

  10. It overran even the smallest trace of medicine;

    it grew and opened wounds all around.

  11. O my illness, my greatest worry and ordeal:

    a festering sore lodged in the heart's core,

  12. a sore whose pain estrangement stirs.

    It settled upon my grieving heart and afflicted me.

  13. I do not think even Luqman could heal its pain;

    medicine cannot settle every illness.

  14. Medicine and remedies cannot cure every disease,

    especially love, which kills the one it seizes.

  15. Grief, longing, and distance have wasted my body;

    I saw my hair turn gray before its time.

  16. I am like an old beast kneeling at its home,

    bowed by carrying heavy loads.

  17. The burden has cast it down, drained of strength;

    its eyes have sunk and its head droops.

  18. Its people left it, weak, by the resting place,

    in a desolate waste, its strength spent.

  19. They left it, skin and bones, useless and still,

    among frightening, empty expanses.

  20. Even if it could, it cannot follow the departing caravan on foot;

    it groans for the companions of youth and loved ones.

  21. Birds of prey circle above it;

    after being cherished, its hide has become scraps.

  22. It saw wasting and death before its eyes and bent

    onto its side as birds pecked at its brow.

  23. Or I am like a grieving, anguished bereaved mother

    lamenting her child in the earth of the grave.

  24. Or a mother whose unborn young death has taken,

    lowing beside a decoy she tends.

  25. She lows over a decoy fashioned from scraps,

    the spirit of life absent from it for months.

  26. Separation has pulled my heart as if it were

    an old bucket with worn and tangled ropes.

  27. The tears of distance burn my eyes

    as they stream continually over my cheek.

  28. Grief, sorrow, and toil have bent my back,

    and the partings of my beard and hair have turned white.

  29. I seem a man of ninety who has lived all those years,

    battered by the abundance of trials and disasters.

  30. Battered and still, bereft of good sense and guidance

    by what happened and the bitterness my soul has tasted.

  31. If I began to count what has passed over me

    of troubles and dispersal among strangers,

  32. the pen would fail to reckon it all;

    I doubt any scribe could count it.

  33. For seven years now, in our own land,

    I have pleaded like the prophet Lot among his kin.

  34. I warn those who understand where wrath may fall:

    O people, relent and consider the consequences.

  35. O people, the Lord of the Throne will surely repay deeds;

    fear His wrath and where its blows may fall.

  36. O people, the road of error brings no deliverance;

    you have stirred up town dwellers and tribes alike.

  37. O people, withhold your harm from everyone;

    respect the rights of neighbors and guests.

  38. O people, these ways bring no escape;

    I fear the consequences of your conduct.

  39. O people, obey me, heed me, and restrain yourselves;

    live kindly with your fellow countrymen.

  40. O people, stop wrongdoing and be wary of one another;

    let the elders of the people settle disputes.

  41. O people, you will have to regret your deeds;

    what you do is poison that kills whoever drinks it.

  42. O people, you have squandered honor and more;

    where are courage, nobility, and restraint?

  43. A people who grow tyrannical will see their homes ruined;

    whoever goes astray cannot evade the consequences.

  44. God has cursed people who disregard the truth;

    observe God's books and the teachings of the schools.

  45. All have grown deaf and hard as stone;

    the Lord of creation has not yet exacted what is due.

  46. And I have spent two years imprisoned, suffering

    many disasters, trials, and injuries.

  47. A stranger far from home, I lament the distance;

    they dragged us away without cause.

  48. They betrayed us, long practiced betrayers of promises;

    their policies had long been set on treachery.

  49. When the Turks give you their word by God, beware;

    their oaths by God are false.

  50. The Turks spread through all the tribes

    and poured their anger on the Druze who opposed them.

  51. When the Turks entered a land, they laid it waste;

    their subjects fled their oppression.

  52. They made their subjects grind at the mill;

    look at Arabistan, demolished and ruined.

  53. That official and that other functionary are contemptible;

    the rest are wolves with shorn whiskers.

  54. They are unjust traitors; parting from them is a blessing;

    their law is fair only in speech and demands.

  55. If someone seeks refuge from them, they soon abandon him,

    though a thousand laws may bear on his offense.

  56. But woe to one who trusts them when they seize him;

    that is the word of parting, with death at hand.

  57. As fire burns whoever draws near its flames,

    or as a blazing brand burns when it appears.

  58. Drunkards and libertines—may their conduct be cursed—

    more unjust than a tiger when it pounces.

  59. Whoever approaches them seems to seek his fortune,

    but they only snatch coins into their grasp.

  60. Basest of all the desert peoples,

    they recognize no duty to a guest in Turkish lands.

  61. I testify that the Turks have no trustworthiness,

    and their rule is rejected by the four schools.

  62. Why speak more of them? May God free us

    from them, and may the Generous One have mercy by His gifts.

  63. May He bring deliverance from affliction to us all,

    our companions and absent relatives,

  64. for the sake of the chosen Prophet and the four

    through whom the world is honored in all its quarters.

  65. After this, I turned my thoughts to separation,

    and the pen moved in the writer's measured art.

  66. O rider departing from us on a swift camel,

    one of the finest and fleetest young she-camels,

  67. seasoned and free in crossing empty wastes,

    racing like an ostrich startled from its keepers.

  68. She is a tall, well-bred Omani young camel,

    the like of which you will not find among all the camel traders.

  69. Set her saddle atop her high back,

    and tighten her girth, hind strap, and breast straps.

  70. Her coverings are of fine silk and cloth,

    and her plume is made from choice feathers.

  71. Fine metalwork studs her saddle,

    its ornaments gleaming like gold.

  72. An Aqili saddlebag is dyed in rich colors,

    brought by Ibn Rawwaq for the mount.

  73. Take supplies that will serve you over the distance;

    your road is long, even with a swift mount.

  74. When she strides across the open plains, you would liken her

    to a land-going steam engine with its full load aboard.

  75. May protection reach you and your mount

    from the harm of an envious eye.

  76. From Kastamonu stretch your road eastward,

    keeping the reins drawn in your right hand.

  77. You will reach Ankara, whose wall is in ruins;

    would that it and all its land were gone.

  78. At Kayseri, be a guest among our companions;

    rest your camel and set the saddle aside.

  79. After the guest's due—three days—

    my friend, be mounted before dawn.

  80. Let your racing camel pass onward

    and urge her toward the next destination.

  81. Head for Diyarbakır and Mardin,

    knowing the way and holding firmly to it.

  82. Then go to Aleppo and my beloved homeland;

    greet the land of Syria and its highlands.

  83. Hama and Homs in Syria are not far away,

    nor is the spacious city that draws every heart.

  84. Then turn your camel toward Hauran,

    toward our land whose virtues we always recall.

  85. You will come to the house saddened by our absence;

    messenger, I see you arriving with replies.

  86. O house, distance has driven me to you in pain;

    I want to see you and look upon your every side.

  87. O house, I see you dressed in a garment of sorrow,

    after you were like flowers among the grasses.

  88. O house, I see you empty, with no companionship

    except owls and crows cawing around you.

  89. Where are the fine, purebred horses?

    Where are the long spears with streaming tassels?

  90. O house, once I pastured near you in the afternoon;

    you stood like a market day thronged with people.

  91. People of every community gathered in your square,

    their bustling cries filling the whole air.

  92. Today I see you vacant, blackened with grief,

    a wilderness like heaps of barren sand.

  93. Your heart is wounded beyond all dwellings;

    no heir is here to tend the wound.

  94. Your sand frightens anyone approaching your homes;

    you are mourned after former joy and kindness.

  95. O house, answer me; O house, tell me.

    O house, I will carry word back to its people.

  96. The house answered, weeping with grief:

    My brother, where are the absent loved ones?

  97. May they be well and receive their destined share,

    wherever they roam upon this broad earth.

  98. Come closer, that I may hear news and rejoice

    at your tidings of the dear ones who have gone.

  99. My patience has run out, O messenger from afar;

    my heart melts at the loved ones' separation.

  100. My brother, tell me; my brother, speak:

    who can bring me news of the dear ones?

  101. I said to her, O house, settle and rest;

    time holds many terrors and wonders.

  102. I left them for a while in Turkish lands,

    but concern for you has grayed everyone.

  103. Concern for you has grayed heads and beards;

    O house, why are you forsaken after being cherished?

  104. O house, why are you neglected after being cherished?

    Whoever sees you turns away and says you are finished.

  105. O desolate one, reply to me and answer;

    I am asking you and await your reply.

  106. She said: I am as you see me, their messenger;

    my wall is broken, and time has shaken its sides.

  107. A ruin, I frighten all who visit my courtyard;

    I have only mice alive and playing there.

  108. My time betrayed me, and I am not ashamed of my lament;

    the days betrayed us—how harsh their blows.

  109. Some days are like Socotran aloe,

    more sour than bitterness on the drinker's liver.

  110. Some days are like honey from the hives,

    sweeter than sugar to the one who tastes it.

  111. When days turn against us, may God avert their evil;

    they could make solid rocks drift away as smoke.

  112. Some days bring comfort and ease,

    and others turn a child gray.

  113. Some days bring honor by sword and spear,

    and others bring humiliation in dark depths.

  114. Some days bring security untouched by fear,

    and others bring fear beneath raining clouds.

  115. Some days bring ease through generosity and openhandedness,

    and others bring hardship and scarcity everywhere.

  116. Days conceive and days give birth,

    and give their children poison to drink through calamities.

  117. Days keep turning; may you be spared their evil,

    a wheel driven and tilted by the wind.

  118. The bright nights are not a quarter as many as the dark;

    the dark nights stay constantly beside you.

  119. If you are spared hidden calamities,

    count yourself fortunate amid hard affairs.

  120. Keep peace and set aside fear and caution;

    no destined arrow from the Most High misses its mark.

  121. Nothing can ward off the trial allotted you by the Most High,

    even if your enemies are as numerous as raindrops.

  122. The Lord is your best hope in hardship and ease;

    the Lord's gifts of goodness are abundant.

  123. I end my words with blessings on the Prophet,

    the Chosen One sought by the noble.

  124. May He bring deliverance from affliction to us all

    and grant us a good ending on the day of dread.

Sol 6