سلام على وادي الأراك سلام — Aloshari

Peace upon the valley of al-Arak, peace!

For I had a bond with it, and a covenant.

There I drank the water of life, pure and clear,

and enjoyed union with the tribe's full moon at his fullest.

And many a guileless youth—I spent the night kissing his lips,

and no veil had been lifted from him before that.

And I dally with magic—the coyness of eyes—

and gaze at falling pearls, which are speech.

And I scatter necklaces of my tears, which curve

over the face in ordered strands.

Then he glances at me from his drowsy eye,

and offers me a bough—his graceful figure.

And he kisses me with roses in a cheek's garden,

upon which rests a sword drawn from a languid glance.

And he rose to offer me wine from his mouth,

bearing a seal of fresh musk.

Youth's vigor makes him sway and twist,

though no wine is in him—no, by al-Udhayb!

I am blamed for my love of white necks,

on which beauty's temple-lock has traced a lam.

I pass the night, my eyelid knowing not what sleep is;

and how can one who courts gazelles sleep?

The passing breeze consoles us at evening,

and we hear the sound of dew as it pours down.

And we breathe in from the garden of the Hijaz and its ravine

a fragrance resembling musk, though it is balsam.

And many a dove lamented in sorrow for its mate,

rousing longings and passionate love in us.

Did it not know that my longing was stronger than its own,

and that my parting from the one I love is death?

It is as though our nights there were a lightning flash,

and life with the soft-voiced gazelle were a dream.

Had pleasures lasted, we would have lived in bliss

throughout our days—but they have no permanence.

There I knew life with its pool clear,

yes, and my womenfolk inviolate in its shelter.

Young men guarded it with the edges of keen swords,

weaned from all but safeguarding honor.

With long spear-shafts they guarded full-bosomed maidens,

above whom stood tents woven of spear-shafts.

May God water a dwelling at Rama with the first autumn rains,

and a pasture of slender maidens, not pursued there.

And may the rain greet the gazelle of the Hijaz, for he

has kindled burning pain and flame within my heart.

He alone was singled out among people for beauty,

as a noble man was singled out for lofty eminence:

Ali of high virtues, perfect in worth, has risen

to a rank matching his lofty name, beyond others' reach.

He is the sea in knowledge—nay, the sea in bounty;

his two hands seem rainclouds for mankind.

And a luminary of beneficence—as for his learning,

it is rain, and his mind is a sharp sword.

And a dawn of learning, before which ignorance has vanished:

can darkness remain beside the shining dawn?

And a lion in debate, who alone struck his opponent dumb,

though adversaries were many on the day of debate.

He guarded Islam's domain when he was its sheikh,

so withers and hump alike fell short of him.

Through him the noble sacred law and its rulings were ordered,

and without him no order would have appeared in it.

He illumines a sermon with his radiant opinions

whenever jealousy and dust have overshadowed it.

Thus he matched his demonstration to the soundest argument,

by which the ladder of manifest truth is raised.

So he went forth, al-Maturidi's party victorious,

and the army of Imam al-Ash'ari a vast host.

And the armies of determinism turned back, shattered in defeat,

and ran with arrows in their necks.

And the eyes of Rafidism sank beneath the fire of his might;

their sight had gone blind, and they feigned blindness.

And the face of Mu'tazilism became bloodstained,

his swords thronging both its cheeks.

How often al-Nazzam made the ugliest leap,

and was seized with bewilderment at the encounter!

And the explicit testimony of his excellence declares, by implication,

that praise of him is a bridle for hearts.

Jewels of excellence whose stringing prose adores—

so scattering and stringing alike are sweet beside them.

And his perfection unbound praise from its restraints,

so words and speech fell short of it.

So, O mountain, before whom bowed

hills bearing lords and noble men!

You climbed onto sacred law's back as your mount,

whose hump towers above every lofty peak.

Yours are exalted rank and dignity to which

the ages are a slave and time a serving-boy.

By your worth, pause and hear a poem's ordered verse:

its cadences are forbidden to anyone but you.

It came to you despite the remoteness and distance of home,

that, through it, your palms might quench my burning thirst.

And it lays my circumstances before you; for I

have been afflicted by terrors raised against me.

And my time has wronged me with its straitest livelihood,

and whoever has you as patron is not wronged.

Pardon my stumble, and by your standing raise my rank;

and make my homesteads fertile, for you are a raincloud,

that I may fulfill the many obligations owed to learning,

so I may rise with no reproach from them upon me.

May the moons of your glory never cease ascending

to the sphere of spheres, in their fullness,

for all time, so long as a singer sings, saying:

Peace upon the valley of al-Arak, peace!