shattered swords.
13.1
People also admire the words of apology uttered by al-Nābighah to al-Nuʿmān in a classic ode:
You are like the night, engulfing me,
even though I imagined myself at a vast distance from you.
Iron hooks on twisted ropes are
pulled by hands that reach toward you.
13.2
Salm al-Khāsir composed several verses of apology to al-Mahdī, as follows:
I seek refuge among the best of all people:
you are that man by virtue of what you do and do not do.
You are like fate, whose nets are cast—
there is no escape or refuge from fate.
If I could control the wind I would turn its reins
in every direction, but still you would catch me.
13.3
This comes from the words of al-Farazdaq to al-Ḥajjāj:
If the wind were to carry me and you pursued me,
I would be like something trapped by its fate.
Salm thus successfully replaced “You are like the night” with “You are like fate” and replaced “iron hooks” with “If I could control the wind I would turn its reins” and produced excellent poetry.
13.4
ʿAlī ibn Jabalah, however, praised Ḥumayd with a motif similar to al-Nābighah’s, as follows:
No one can escape you in pursuit,
even if ladders were to lift him to the sky,
Not even if he fled to a place where
neither darkness nor bright morning light could find their way.
In Ibn Jabalah’s favor is the fact that he added to the motif and expanded it, but the fact that he turned it into two verses, whereas al-Nābighah had done so in one verse and had come first, counts against him.
13.5
The words of al-Buḥturī are similar to Ibn Jabalah’s phrase, “If ladders were to lift him to the sky”:
They were despoiled. Their blood shone red, like clothes—
it was as if they had not been despoiled.
Were they to ride the stars,
their fastest ones would not elude your intrepid grasp.11
13.6
Salm’s words “You are like fate” are taken from al-Akhṭal:
The deeds of the Commander of the Faithful are like fate—
there is no shame in acts of fate.
14.1
The finest thing the Ancients said about homesickness and longing is a verse Abū Aḥmad Yaḥyā ibn ʿAlī l-Munajjim recited to me:
A land where the amulets of childhood were undone in youth,
the place where dust first touched my skin.12
14.2
Ibn Mayyādah later said:
If I only knew whether I would ever spend a night
in Layla’s stony flatlands, where my people reared me.13
A land where amulets were hung from my neck
and then cut off, when maturity came.
If you are detaining me from my home,
give me ample sustenance and then reunite us!
and there are more lines like these.
14.3
Ibn al-Rūmī evoked his home, explained why it is beloved, and within the verses of a single poem brought together all this disparate material:
I have a house I swore I would never sell,
Nor live to see anyone own but me.
It was there I knew the carefree bliss of youth,
the blissful slumber of those who wake in your shadow.
My soul grew so used to it, it seemed like its body:
If I lost it, I would be left for dead.
What makes people love their homes
is what they accomplished there in their youth.
As they recall their homes, they bring to mind
their youthful lives—oh, how they miss them now!14
15.1
People admire al-Nābighah’s description of a topic rarely broached:15
When you thrust your spear, you thrust it into a high target,
rising to the touch and perfume-daubed.
And when you pull out, you pull out from a tight spot,
like a grown boy pulling on a twisted rope.16
15.2
Other poets used this motif and made it longer or shorter, then Ibn al-Rūmī brought together this disparate material in three verses:
She has a pussy that borrows its fire
from a lover’s passionate heart and a chest full of hatred.
When you feel its heat
it’s as if your own innards were on fire.
It gets tighter in the grip of love
like the noose of a rope.17
16
This poem contains a description of a black woman, to whom Ibn al-Rūmī refers in the preceding passage. He was the first to describe this in verse:
She wins love because she is dyed black,
the color of the pupil and the inner heart.18
She captivates minds and eyes,
oh,
