سيدي أنت عمدتي فاحتملني — Ibn Alkhatib

My lord, you are my mainstay, so bear with me,

And graciously cloak my discourtesy with favor from you.

You are sorely tried by Berbers and Ghuzz Turks,

By mountain folk and desert dwellers,

By owners of she-camels and the people of Himyar,

By men, boys, and women,

And by Bedouins—their boor comes trudging toward you,

Now in a cloak, now without one.

You raise your voice whenever you pass among them,

Like cranes or waterfowl.

And whenever you offer an excuse, they will not accept

An excuse; acceptance is reserved for sensible men.

And white-bearded old shaykhs who have dyed their

Legs with henna, like doves;

And petitioners given to begging and importunity,

Who arrive in desperate need after the evening meal;

And odd fellows pouring out long, droning utterances,

Like the millstone’s hum, of little use.

A man among them might write for a thousand years

Yet still not recognize the shapes of letters—

Nothing but the letter dhāl recurs, except that a ṭāʾ

Has been made a substitute for ẓāʾ;

And a captive—their speech resembles a swal—

—low when daylight’s thread bursts forth;

And he-goats from the soil of al-Andalus who

Came, driven by necessity and exile.

Among them was a veritable sledgehammer, and others besides,

Yet among them he is numbered with the men of wit;

And beggars, and a band of captives

Who crossed the sea in hope of ransom.

The most brazen of the crowd clamored—the earth rang with them—

Casting off every restraint and all shame.

Your gracious nature has room for them all,

And your bountiful court has a spacious yard.

Then they depart one by one, spreading

Abroad the worthy praise they have heard.

Who besides you has the strength to undertake

Service—blessed are you—or bear the overbearing of tiresome men?

You alone are a refuge for all humankind,

A sanctuary in hardship and ease.

What would my burden amount to, even if deemed burdensome,

Beside all this boorishness from these people?

My stay is brief, and I turn my face

Toward Salé, that mine of fools.

So help me, and set about renewing what you

Decreed, O countenance of the glorious and highborn.

And return me soon to my solitude;

Do not torment my heart by prolonging my stay.

Wholly sincere toward you, in all my secret and public being,

Yours are my love, my praise, and my prayer.

You rescued my heart, and it has no one but

You at every end and every beginning.

May God seal your life with favor, O son of Riḍwān—

Yours be a lifetime after long years of life.