Translation of an Arabic poem

by Modaffar of Abiward

Layout 2

TRANSLATION OF AN ARABIC POEM.

In the Appendix to the second volume of the “History of the Crusades,” of Professor Wilken of Heidelberg, is given a literal translation of an Arabic poem, written in reproach of the indifference with which the Moslems prosecuted those wars.

Of the poet, Modaffar of Abiward (a town of Khorassan), nothing farther is known, than his song of upbraiding on the slackness of the Mussulmen in the contest for Islam against the Crusades, specimens of which are given in different historical works of the Arabians. Abulfeda, in his Annals, adduced, as a specimen, some distichs, to which Reiske, from a MS. of Ebn-Shohnah, has sdod three more (9, 11, 12). In the History of Jerusalem and Hebron, of which Professor Wilken had access to two MSS. in the Imperial Library at Paris, varying but little from one another in regard to this poem, and that chiefly in errors of the copyist, nor differing much from the text as given by Abulfeda, a few additional distichs are cited. Abulfeda has given only the better and more intelligible distichs (1, 2, 4–7, 16, 17), which does credit to his judgment.

It would appear, from the reference made to the poem in the body of the work, that it was written soon after the taking of Jerusalem by the Crusaders, which assigns its date about the year A. D. 1100.

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1. We have mingled our blood with streaming tears,
Therefore is there nothing of us now left for the stroke of the foe.

2. Oh! ill weapons of the man are tears, which he sheds
In the time when the fire of war is kindled by the glittering swords.

3. Hear, sons of Islam! Yet are there appointed to you
Battles, in which heads must come under hoofs.

4. But how can it be that your eye sleeps, the lashes full (sc. of sleep)
Amidst sorrows, which would awaken every sleeper?

5. And your brothers in Syria—their place of rest is
On the back of young horses, or in the maw of old vultures.

6. Them the Roman loads, burdens with dishonour, and ye
Draw after you the train of luxury, as if ye lived in peace.

7. And how much of blood is already poured out, and of the beautiful
How many a one guards the blushes of her beauty with her fingers spread over them.

8. During the time that stroke and thrust are but once exchanged,
Are both her sons grown gray.

9. And he that draws back in fear, from the whirlpool of this strife
To deliver his life, shall one day gnash his teeth for repentance.

10. This strife puts into the hands of the idolaters sharp-edged swords,
Which will one day wound neck and head of the faithful.

11. Soon will the prophet, the buried in Taijeba,^[1] cry out,
With loud voice, “O race of Hashem!

12. I see my people not pointing on the foe
Their lances, and the pillars of the Faith totter.”

13. They shun the fire, fearing to set their foot in it,
And consider not that shame follows without tarrying.

16. Can they endure such shame, the leaders in fight of the Arabs?
Can they keep silence in such dishonour, the heroes of the Persians?

17. Ah! if they will not out of zeal defend their Faith,
Yet out of jealousy should they guard what is to them precious and holy.^[2]

18. And if they dread, on naked fields without shelter, the raging of the fight,
Should they not yet engage in the fight for very lust of spoil?”

1. An appellation of Medina.
2. Namely, the persons of their families.