from Ibn al-`Arabi, Turjuman selections, translated by Michael Sells

Poem #31
Dead on the Trail in Dhat al-Ada
translated 25 December 2003

Lightning lit up
Dhat al-Ada, flashes
flickering down the valley sides.

A chain of whispering across the sky,
then the thunder clash burst open the rains.

Kneel the camels
they shouted, no one
was listening. I'm crying, driver

Please, driver! let the camels graze.
I'm in love with a girl who rides
in your care. For a lissome girl,

soft her gestures, delicate
her walk, the heart
of a sad man yearns.

Mention her and the crowd
rushes up with bouquets--
and on every tongue, her name!

She camps below on the lowland plains
though her home is high on a baldcap mountain.

Lowlands are highlands with her.
Every height towers, with her,
beyond the gaze.

Every ruin she brings
to life. She turns the mirage
into waters that quench.

Every garden opens, with her,
splendorous in flower,
every cup of wine is pure.

Her countenance illumines
my night, pitch dark
in the fall of her hair my day.

The Sunderer split
my heart down center
when she let her arrows fly,

Her eyes experienced
in finding the target,
burying their arrows inside

No owl in a deserted ruin
No turtledove,
No crow

Is more baleful
than an old camel saddled
to take her whose beauty is fatal away

And leave a man
though his love was faithful
dead on the trail in Dhat al-Ada.