The World Narrowed Around Me
Like a coffin closing in,
Hope was all that kept my spirit from dying.
My friend, should I take my leave from you,
What use then would rubies be after parting?
Complaint has never been in my nature,
God as my witness, silence I will not keep.
Yet time crushed my heart beneath its weight,
Binding my hands by sorcery’s spell.
Have you seen one seemingly alive, yet dead within?
Finding strength in dreams alone.
Thus did exile and youth steal away my prime,
Concealing their faces now from mine.
My friend, I am torn asunder like Iraq,
Become a land with no safe harbour.
Make haste before this muteness mutes my song,
Lest the chance escape me as time floats by.
I speak my sighs to soothe this pain of mine,
Letting each word wound yet heal in turn.
On embers of longing’s fire I walk these nights,
No light ahead nor behind does guide my way.
Unbidden, sorrow enters deep my heart,
Rains falls though skies bear no clouding threat.
The smoldering hush, the pallor on my face,
Iraq’s long patience in affliction’s embrace.
No rest comes on any bed where I might lay,
With thoughts of Karbala ever in my fray.
She says I see you seem so blithe and singing,
Yet one like me needs tears as balm.
You know not how hard it is these tears to shed,
My pride surpasses more than flooding eyes.
Shall I bring light or deeper shadow spread, take flight?
For poems and cares alike are bed and board.
Though kings praise beauty that my words create,
A pauper ever shall my portion be.
Thousands of verses have these hands shaped,
Yet own I no small dwelling place.
If riches ever poetry did grace,
Farazdaq or Al-Jarir would have built before this place.
With flowers and love earth’s face we did adorn,
Yet sorrows vast lie buried here within.
In want and need our lives we spend,
Banners exalted after death we then shall ken.
