ربيعك للروح كالبلسم — Walid Al Azami

Your spring is like balm to the spirit,

bright in its morning light, serene in its smile.

It stirs the feelings within the soul

and frees it from the bondage of blood,

and revives it, free and untroubled

by reproachers' scheming and blame.

It lifts it from the lowliness of dust

to the wider, nobler horizon,

and bathes it in heaven's tenderness

and grants it a Muslim's dignity.

Then its lights shine in the heart,

and it beats with praise for the Bestower,

and walks upright along a path

sound, leading to what is safer.

Within it wafts the fragrance of guidance,

sweetly fragrant, outlasting the season,

more delicate and dewy than jasmine,

and more splendid in beauty than a bud.

Your spring, O master of all beings—

its radiance lights the blind hearts

and quenches the burning thirst of the thirsty who

see the mirage as a swollen torrent.

Prophet of guidance, your remembrance has stirred me,

so I rejoiced—I mean, with parched longing.

And I sing of your excellence among men,

openly, in daylight, with full voice.

I call humankind to your way,

and your way is the singer's ultimate aim,

and the spirit of peace for all humankind,

with no distinction between Arab and non-Arab.

The innovation of the ignorant and coarse has passed,

and vanished with humbled falsehood.

Boasting and pride have died,

for all creation comes from Adam.

Distinction through righteous deeds has taken

the place of boasting of greater rank.

So whatever God has made firm remains unbroken,

and whatever God has undone is not made firm.

For a lowly system is not equal

to a way from the Creator, the Bestower.

And can a human who claims

knowledge be equal to the Creator, the All-Knowing?

And how, by your Lord, can you accept this,

when you yearn for what is most upright?

Do you not oppose it by the very nature

upon which the Most Merciful fashioned you?

So secure for yourself what you desire

of good things, and do not fling yourself

into what conflicts with the revelations

from the Creator, the Maker, the Most Great.

Enough for me and you is what we see

and feel of our painful sickness.

We cry out, but no listener answers,

and scream in an obscure wilderness.

Our enemies see what afflicts us,

and the cause of our backwardness is not concealed.

We have become a clear target for them;

whoever wishes to shoot drags us about.

O universe, listen to me,

and O ear of time, understand me.

For I am candid, as you know,

devoted to my upright principle.

However numerous the fronts,

I belong to no direction

save the Chosen One's qibla and the Station,

to refresh my life-force with Zamzam.

I make all who tread upon the soil witness,

beneath the sky, the Muslim's honor.

I am protective of my nation, lest it stray

amid raging storms on the vast sea.

I am protective of my nation, lest it lose

the path of salvation and fail to find safety.

I am protective of my nation, lest it reel

and fail to attain peace,

then sit deaf and stricken,

delighted by the language of the mute,

and distracted by trivial affairs

from prescribed duty and the foremost obligation.

It buries its hopes in broad daylight,

and spends evening and morning in mourning.

It rises and sits in its distress,

and the water of tears pours unceasingly.

It implores its sons for a bond

of religion and truth that has not been severed,

and hopes for a salve for its ailments,

yet there is no salve but religion.

My brother, do not falter, for those men are examples

for the likes of me and you in a crisis.

Whenever the times grew dark,

they cleared the gloom with youthful, lofty resolve.

They hold their place in men's esteem,

and their renown is at the summits of the stars.

Advance, for you are unbowed and brave,

and do not be intimidated or hold back.

Hold fast to the noble Messenger's guidance

and the way of your authoritative Qur'an.

Do not give ground, and do not stray,

do not be pessimistic, and do not grow weary.

Advance, for in humankind's life there is

no place for the powerless and destitute.

And bare, in the face of your vile foes,

your weapon, not a consecrated pilgrim's restraint,

to wipe away in Jerusalem, from its people,

the tears of widows and orphanhood.

It is not prudence to turn back

on the day of struggle before you have advanced;

nor is it resolve that it should go out—

the flame of sacrifice—before it is kindled.

Move, for you are mighty and noble,

even if the shackle has marked your wrist.

Do not be dismayed by vipers' venom,

and do not fear the speckled serpent's bite.

Plunge into them as the forebears did—

seas surging with crimson blood.

Do not belong to a petty people

who measure happiness by the dirham,

and look at the universe through a small window

overlooking a dark world,

living with no purpose

but drink and food.