Posts tagged ‘muhammad ibn abbad al-mu’tamid’

Saturday, 10 August 2019

A Withered Rose by Muhammad Iqbal

How shall I call you now a flower—
Tell me, oh withered rose!
How call you that beloved for whom
The nightingale’s heart glows?
The winds’ soft ripples cradled you
And rocked your bygone hours,
And your name once was Laughing Rose
In the country of flowers;
With the dawn breezes that received
Your favours you once played,
Like a perfumer’s vase your breath
Sweetened the garden glade.

These eyes are full, and drops like dew
Fall thick on you again;
This desolate heart finds dimly its
Own image in your pain,
A record drawn in miniature
Of all its sorry gleaming;
My life was all a life of dreams,
And you—you are its meaning.
I tell my stories as the reed
Plucked from its native wild
Murmurs; oh Rose, listen! I tell
The grief of hearts exiled.

From: Iqbal, Muhammad and Kiernan, V. G. (ed. and transl.), Poems from Iqbal, 1955, John Murray: London, p. 1.
(https://archive.org/details/in.gov.ignca.2950/)

Date: before 1905 (original in Urdu); 1955 (translation in English)

By: Muhammad Iqbal (1877-1938)

Translated by: Edward Victor Gordon Kiernan (1913-2009)

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Monday, 23 July 2018

Woo Not the World by Muhammad ibn Abbad al-Mu’tamid

Woo not the world too rashly, for behold,
Beneath the painted silk and broidering,
It is a faithless and inconstant thing.
(Listen to me, Mu’tamid, growing old.)

And we— that dreamed youth’s blade would never rust,
Hoped wells from the mirage, roses from the sand —
The riddle of the world shall understand
And put on wisdom with the robe of dust.

From: ibn Abbad al-Mu’tamid, Muhammad and Smith, Dulcie Lawrence (transl.), Wisdom of the East: The Poems of Mu’tamid, King of Seville, 1915, John Murray: London, p. 54.
(https://archive.org/details/poemsofmutamidk00muta)

Date: 11th century (original in Arabic); 1915 (translation in English)

By: Muhammad ibn Abbad al-Mu’tamid (1040-1095)

Translated by: Dulcie Lawrence Smith (18??-19??)