By Gibran Khalil Gibran
My soul charged me to gaze steadfastly upon all that is deemed ugly until it appears lovely
Before my soul had thus charged and counseled me, I had seemed to see beauty like unto wavering torches between pillars of smoke;
But now the smoke has dispersed and vanished and I see naught but the burning.
أين أنت في هذا الوجود؟!
كم مِن أُمَمٍ تحتفل بعيدك، وقد وضعت نير العبودية على أمم وأمم!
وكم من قـوم نصبوا لك التماثيل في الأرض، وقـد هدموك في القلـوب والعقول والنّفوس!
Poem by WH Auden
Law, say the gardeners, is the sun,
Law is the one
All gardeners obey
To-morrow, yesterday, to-day.
By Jeremy Hugh Baron
Descriptions by patients of their own diseases are always interesting, especially as poems. In February 960 the poet al-Mutanabbi developed while in Egypt a fever that left him delirious after each nightly attack, beginning with fever and rigors, and ending with copious sweating. He compares the fever to a coy maiden who will visit him under cover of darkness.