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Ibn Zaydun and Wallada:
Words by: Abu'l-Walid Ahmad IBN ZAYDUN (1003-71):
Delicious those days
we spent while fate
slept. There was peace, I mean,
and us, thieves of pleasure
Now only flowers
with frost bent stems I see;
at my eyes their vivid
centres pull, they gaze
back at me
Without sleep, and a light
flickers through their cups,
in sympathy, I think.
The sun-baked rose-buds in
bushes, remember
how their colours had lit
our morning air; and still
Breaths of wind dispense
at break of day, as then,
Perfume they gather up
from waterlilies'
half-open drowsy eyes.
Such fresh memories
of you these few things
waken in my mind. For
faraway as you are
in this passion's grip
I persist with a sigh
And pine to be at one
with you. Please God no
calm or oblivion
will occupy my heart,
or close it. Listen
to the shiver of wings
at your side - it is my
desire,and still, still
I am shaking with it...
Pure love we once exchanged,
It was an unfenced
field and we ran there, free
like horses. But alone
I now can claim
to have kept faith. You left,
left this place. In sorrow
to be here again,
I am loving you...
Words by: WALLADA bint al-Mustakfi (d. 1091/2)
i
Wait for me whenever darkness falls,
For night I see contains a secret best.
If the heavens felt this love I feel for you,
The sun would not shine, nor the moon rise,
Nor would the stars launch out upon their journey.
ii
Must separation mean we have no way to meet?
Ay! Lovers all moan about their troubles.
For me it is a winter not a trysting time,
Crouching over the hot coals of desire.
If we're apart, nothing can be otherwise.
How soon just the very thing I feared
Was what my destiny delivered. Night after night
And separation going on and on,
Nor does my being patient free me from
The shackles of my longing. Please God
There may be winter rains pelting copiously down
To irrigate the earth where now you dwell.
iii
Had you any respect for the love between us,
You would not choose that slave of mine to love.
From a branch flowering in beauty you turn
To a branch that bears no fruit.
You know I am the moon at full,
But worse luck for me
It's Jupiter you have fallen for.
iv
They'll call you the Hexagon, an epithet
Properly yours even after you drop dead:
Scoundrel, pimp, adulterer,
Gigolo, cuckold, blasphemer...
Delicious those days
we spent while fate
slept. There was peace, I mean,
and us, thieves of pleasure
Now only flowers
with frost bent stems I see;
at my eyes their vivid
centres pull, they gaze
back at me
Without sleep, and a light
flickers through their cups,
in sympathy, I think.
The sun-baked rose-buds in
bushes, remember
how their colours had lit
our morning air; and still
Breaths of wind dispense
at break of day, as then,
Perfume they gather up
from waterlilies'
half-open drowsy eyes.
Such fresh memories
of you these few things
waken in my mind. For
faraway as you are
in this passion's grip
I persist with a sigh
And pine to be at one
with you. Please God no
calm or oblivion
will occupy my heart,
or close it. Listen
to the shiver of wings
at your side - it is my
desire,and still, still
I am shaking with it...
Pure love we once exchanged,
It was an unfenced
field and we ran there, free
like horses. But alone
I now can claim
to have kept faith. You left,
left this place. In sorrow
to be here again,
I am loving you...
Words by: WALLADA bint al-Mustakfi (d. 1091/2)
i
Wait for me whenever darkness falls,
For night I see contains a secret best.
If the heavens felt this love I feel for you,
The sun would not shine, nor the moon rise,
Nor would the stars launch out upon their journey.
ii
Must separation mean we have no way to meet?
Ay! Lovers all moan about their troubles.
For me it is a winter not a trysting time,
Crouching over the hot coals of desire.
If we're apart, nothing can be otherwise.
How soon just the very thing I feared
Was what my destiny delivered. Night after night
And separation going on and on,
Nor does my being patient free me from
The shackles of my longing. Please God
There may be winter rains pelting copiously down
To irrigate the earth where now you dwell.
iii
Had you any respect for the love between us,
You would not choose that slave of mine to love.
From a branch flowering in beauty you turn
To a branch that bears no fruit.
You know I am the moon at full,
But worse luck for me
It's Jupiter you have fallen for.
iv
They'll call you the Hexagon, an epithet
Properly yours even after you drop dead:
Scoundrel, pimp, adulterer,
Gigolo, cuckold, blasphemer...