from Vol. #7, Issue 3: Autumn 2016
translated from Arabic by Barbara Romaine

Three Abbasid Poems

A Sympathetic Counsellor
by Abū l-ʿAtāhiya

A simple crust of dry bread eaten
In your corner of the world;
And a jug of water taken
In its freshness, pure and cold.

In a narrow room you find
Yourself wholly at liberty,
Or in a mosque set well apart
From bustling humanity.

There you peruse your little book,
Only the wall to lean upon,
While contemplating those gone by
In aeons likewise long bygone.

Better this than hours spent in
Shadow of palatial spires,
Lest afterwards you pray in vain
To pitiless and scorching fire.

Thus I offer up to you
My timely counsel and advice.
Blessings be on him who hears it:
Upon my life, it will suffice.

This sympathetic counsel heed:
Abū l-ʿAtāhiya’s gentle creed.

The Devil and Abu Nuwas
by Abū Nuwās

When I was forsaken by my lover,
His letters ceased; I found no consolation.
Half-mad with longing, plagued by memories,
I very nearly died of my obsession.

I called the Devil for a private word,
And in a flood of tears revealed my anguish:
“Behold my sore affliction, ravaged eyes,
For I can only weep, and sleepless languish.

Restore my lover’s passion to his breast,
For if you don’t—and mind, I know you can!—
I’ll give up poetry, I’ll hear no song,
And never touch a drop of wine again.

I’ll take up study of the Holy Book,
Become a paragon of piety.
All sin forsworn, I’ll fast and pray, I swear,
And dedicate myself to charity.

Not three hours passed after this colloquy
Before my lover came on bended knee.

Wanderlust
by al-Imam al-Shafiʿi

To a mind wise and cultured, what ease in a place?
Pull up stakes, leave your country, and roam!
Those you meet on your travels will make up the loss
Of those left behind you at home.

Water by its own stillness made foul have I seen;
It can only stay sweet when it flows.
There’s no prey for the lion that ventures not forth;
No mark for arrows stuck in bows.

Should the sun in its heavenly orbit stop short,
One and all we would tire of its blaze;
If the moon never set but stood still in the sky,
It would draw not the eye’s eager gaze.

Much like scattered dust lie the earth’s lodes of ore;
Reeds to burn grow in numbers untold.
The latter remove, and you’ll want it; the former,
When rare, is no less than pure gold.

>> read the Arabic text of these poems

Abū l-ʿAtāhiya (Abu Isħaq Ismā'īl ibn Qāsim al-ʿAnazī, 748–828) was an Iraqi Arab poet from the desert region of al-Anbar. He grew up in Kufa, then moved to Baghdad, where he gained renown for his verses. Falling afoul the caliph, he was imprisoned, but only for a brief period. He died in 828 in the reign of Caliph al-Ma'mūn.

Born in the city of Ahvaz in Persia, Abū Nuwās al-Ḥasan ibn Hānī al-Ḥakamī (756–814), is better known simply as Abū Nuwās. Of mixed Arab and Persian descent, he was among the most distinguished classical Arabic poets, noted for his extraordinary virtuosity in the full range of genres, as well as for the striking irreverence that emerges in much of his verse.

Known as the founder of Islamic jurisprudence, al-Imam al-Shafiʿi (Abū ʿAbdullāh Muhammad ibn Idrīs al-Shāfīʿī, 767-820) was also an eloquent speaker, writer, and poet. Common themes in his poetry are the temporal nature of earthly existence, and the ways in which people relate to spirituality, to knowledge, and to one another. He was born in Gaza, but is buried in Egypt, where he spent the last years of his life.

About the translator: Barbara Romaine has been teaching and translating Arabic for some twenty-five years. Most of her translation work is in the realm of contemporary Egyptian fiction; she has twice held an NEA fellowship in translation, and has published translations of both prose and poetry in a number of literary journals. Her translation of Radwa Ashour’s semi-autobiographical novel Specters placed second in the 2011 competition for the Banipal Prize for Arabic Literary Translation. Her most recent project, Mohamed al-Mansi Qandil’s novel A Cloudy Day on the Western Shore, is being prepared for publication with Hamad bin Khalifa University Press. She teaches at Villanova University, outside Philadelphia.

Barbara Romaine's translations of Abassid poems in this issue of Pusteblume were nominated for a Pushcart Prize by Pen & Anvil Press, publisher of this journal in collaboration with the Editorial Institute and the Department of World Languages and Literatures at Boston University.

>> back to issue index