رسل الإمام المقبلين صباحا — أحمد الكاشف

O envoys of the Imam, arriving in the morning,

who bring Egypt her fragrant greeting.

Many were your paths to us, yet you chose

the sky as your arena and roaming ground.

Turn aside to the sacred valley, and descend

to a land overflowing for you with bounty and generosity.

If you alight in its towers and palaces,

you had already won souls before them.

You flew on wings of iron to a protected land

whose hills wished they could become winds.

And you folded up the horizons, which were a page

on which you recite the clear signs eloquently.

And you saw the homelands around your passage

looking upward, mountains and plains alike.

And you drew near, the age at peace, after

the defenders had filled all creation with struggle.

You are most entitled to the flourishing of the homeland that

has become a possession freely available to all people.

And you recognized its sons as your brothers,

and its prince, valorous and lavish in giving,

and the Nile, wishing it could flow to

its two brothers, the Tigris and Euphrates, pure and clear.

O people of bygone conquests, let it suffice

that knowledge be the conqueror after your sword.

Welcome to your new era, bringing back

that abundant, radiant glory.

I saw that your adversary had come to fear you,

so he kept faith, and the star of the East returned in triumph.

Were you to guard what remains of your dominion,

you would regain what was lost of it and fell away,

and surpass the most advanced peoples, and overawe

the haughty kings with your lofty reach and ambition.

The wishes with which I communed

came true, so I came to you singing them aloud.

And I saw your procession ready for them,

so I witnessed the hoped-for deliverance within reach.

And I heard your talk of life's future,

so I drank wine from that discourse.

I am the one whose heart you knew to be aflame,

with thought free and speech forthright.

Sorrowful in a land whose spring was denied me,

I faced the scorching blast of its searing summer.

If the yearning one's longing could carry him,

I would become a sailor in your strait,

to see noble qualities in Furuq,

and see beautiful faces in Furuq.

And perhaps there I may reclaim a trust

in Time's keeping, and ward off a ravager.

So command the breeze to carry a lovesick man

whom separation will not allow to rest.

How often he spent the night hearing a lightning flash speak

of you, and questioning a gleaming flash.

And were his proud defiance and his loyalty transformed,

they would become swords and spears for you.

This is the greeting of a poet who sang it

for you; bearers of death-news startled him, and he lamented.

They filled my cups with poison, after

I saw how miserly my days were toward me.

The joys within my soul

have become sickness and wounds in my breast.

And the fates snatched away the solace of a beating heart

familiar with grief and accustomed to sorrows.

And a wild, raging storm assailed the eagles,

exhausting them with its might and raging unbridled for long.

It cast them down, after they had striven against it,

seeking safety and showering it with jests.

They fell upon the unyielding rock; if only

they had fallen, safe and sound, upon sound hearts.

They matched Salah al-Din, then became neighbors,

while Damascus exalts their station and their resting ground.

The noble company—those swords—did not perish in sacrifice

except so that those who follow might attain success.

How many a man redeeming his homelands watered the earth

with his fragrant blood, causing reform to sprout.

Blessings on heroes who passed from sight after

they lifted the veil and lit the lamp.

Brothers of theirs, the path is paved,

so take it by air, or take it across open ground.

And even if your blood has soothed your enemies, how many

slayers have you brought forth to shed their blood!

So exact vengeance for the men, and hold to account

this age for what it concealed and what it disclosed.