Sol 6.1

  1. An east-wind breeze, while night’s necklace is still strung,

    its fragrance speaks, telling plainly of Najd.

  2. I ask it, “How can there be death without love?”

    And it asks me, “How can there be life with passionate longing?”

  3. I marvel at it when its hand clasps

    spear-like figures guarded by supple spears.

  4. It blows, bringing a dusky-lipped maiden’s fragrance late at night,

    though its origin is traced to the bān tree and the fire-stick.

  5. God help me with a heart that, when it remembers the cherished grounds,

    is like a thirst-maddened wanderer left without a watering place.

  6. Once I was untouched by burning grief or yearning

    for Hind of Banū Hind or Suʿdā of Banū Saʿd.

  7. I would return at evening, hoping for no lawful union,

    and set out at dawn, fearing no forbidden rejection.

  8. Ah, my thirst—if only that cry could quench it!

    And ah, my sorrow—if only “ah, my sorrow” could help!

  9. My eyelid, the most copious raincloud, watered the memory

    of a soft-voiced beauty, languid in eyelid, promise, and pledge,

  10. one of the graceful maidens, ailing save in shunning sleep,

    and their tears, save in keeping the cheek company.

  11. I know love well, and the humiliation it brings;

    how strange—why did I fall in love deliberately?

  12. Through it, slender figures wrong the spears,

    and gazelles’ glances rule over lions.

  13. How many a wilderness led me along with passion,

    where guiding solace strays, as love wills.

  14. How many an army of care, whose like I was a match for,

    I met with pale camels, deserts, and swift strides,

  15. with an ardor for the heights sharper than sword edges,

    and patience against the days more protective than chain mail.

  16. And many a trackless waste I crossed with a band

    who traveled by night along the edge of calamities’ sword.

  17. They drove the mounts across every rise and hollow,

    toward the high ground of life, far from low places,

  18. toward Ibn ʿAlī, the finest caller to generosity,

    who brings his blessings to bear against grievous calamity,

  19. toward the eighth of the seven high heavens, a third alongside guidance

    and its path, a second alongside rain, unique in glory.

  20. They sought the ground where saʿdān grows, though the year was barren,

    and Ṣadāʾ, where trickles count for nothing beside the unfailing spring.

  21. A brother of resolve, his blade keen in exertion and fatigue,

    and a man of speech, true in mettle, in jest and in glory.

  22. His gifts reach those near and those far,

    and his morning rains pour upon free man and slave.

  23. If his two hands clasped a barren land,

    even the face of its hard stone would put forth leaves.

  24. Far-reaching, pouring out bounty, breaking his enemies,

    a companion of generosity, a friend of guidance, steadfast in affection.

  25. A thousand is little to him in every circumstance;

    he gives it freely even to a lone petitioner.

  26. Generous whether time gives or withholds,

    accessible whether the things sought are near or far.

  27. When he stirs on the two days of generosity and might,

    what place remains for rain or Indian blades?

  28. He made wealth’s heart taste the fire of his giving,

    and housed the figure of praise in the garden of his cheek.

  29. How many bonds of accumulated wealth his fingertips have broken,

    how many breaches he has closed, how many bonds he has tightened!

  30. A generous man: when you ask him, he sends wealth down

    upon your dwelling, its verses recited by the tongues of delegations.

  31. His favorite gift is a surge of generosity;

    what he hates most is the mere image of a promise.

  32. When he leaves a horizon, his praise remains;

    and if he settles in a land, his bounty enriches it.

  33. Whenever he gives to those who seek him, sitting with knees drawn up,

    you are certain that a torrent rises from Uḥud.

  34. Through him, poems grow fragrant in every gathering;

    no wonder that a breeze takes its fragrance from aromatic incense.

  35. He is the man whose qualities set him apart from all others,

    and whose deeds all turn toward praise.

  36. Glorious, his name was founded upon the triumph of the heights,

    and drawn forth as a sword is drawn from its sheath.

  37. Whenever he gives to those who seek him, sitting with knees drawn up,

    you are certain that a torrent rises from Uḥud.

  38. He is drawn forth by his caller, his blade-edges unsheathed,

    or when one to call has grown scarce and one to give aid is lacking.

  39. His thoughts range far; if he seeks a goal,

    his gaze does not return until it has encompassed it.

  40. There is none to raise him but his own self;

    he has scaled the heights through diligence and good fortune.

  41. His justice dispelled the darkness of mishaps and injustice;

    no night in their regions remains black.

  42. In settled life, his bounty frees them from need of clouds,

    and in fear, his might frees them from need of armies.

  43. Deeds that cleared the mote from time’s eye,

    and resolve that cured the soul of lofty deeds of weariness.

  44. His days have an excellence over all of time,

    as the night’s stars gain favor from the auspicious moon.

  45. The fingertips of his hand have kept hardship at bay,

    when the rain-stars run dry, himself without an equal.

  46. He established mankind’s excuse for falling below his station,

    for his lordship in the cradle had already won him the lead.

  47. He is the rain: ask him for whatever you wish, and obtain it,

    even if you are beloved of wealth and drink with ease.

  48. If the vast sea were able, it would come to him

    with its billows, begging from the overflow of his two hands.

  49. The earth he humbly walks upon boasts

    over pungent musk and rose-colored ambergris.

  50. Glory’s hand—may it never wither; a most resolute youth—may he never flag;

    Abū al-Fatḥ—may his bounty never fail; a brother of giving and support.

  51. One like Ṣafī al-Dīn is he who grants wishes

    and, through his beneficence, fulfills the hope behind the quest.

  52. His meanings are subtle, however great their worth,

    and his benefactions rise beyond measure or counting.

  53. How many a tyrant he struck down with a battalion

    of words, beside which a vast host dwindled!

  54. He drew the blade of fear, while safety encompassed all,

    and sheathed it in the tyrant’s heart, in the place of hatred.

  55. Had the tear-ducts not rushed to meet it with their water,

    after entering the entrails, it would have melted from the blaze.

  56. And a virgin rhyme, in every quest

    asking little of the days, its renunciation plain,

  57. brings Labīd back, taunting him with dullness,

    and ʿUbayd is too small, beside it, to be my slave.

  58. To an envier, it is colocynth, bitter to harvest,

    but to people of letters, sweeter than honey.

  59. A noble steed of virtues from me has bestowed it upon you,

    outrunning the reach of understanding at gallop and sprint.

  60. People deem what I say immense,

    and no wonder: sparks come from the fire-stick.

  61. And if I fail to gain what I sought, though speech is possible,

    how often a keen-edged blade has glanced off its target!

  62. If morning’s superiority over darkness is not clear,

    there is no difference between error and right guidance.

  63. Praise of you is not like praise of anyone else;

    rather, it is a beauty mark on the surface of a cheek.

  64. People have mispointed “the feast” (ʿīd), though in truth

    it is “the slave” (ʿabd), and through it the patrons are the slave’s joy.

  65. The days have gained majesty from you;

    likewise, a neck’s beauty shows in its necklace.

Sol 6.1