It was for us, in Abraqan

by qisasukhra

An unannotated travesty of the ninth poem, ُلَمَعَتْ لِنَا بِالأَبْرَقَيْنِ بُرُوق , from Ibn Arabi’s ترجمان الأشواق. The Arabic is here, though it has مدامع for مذانب in the version used for this translation.



It was for us, in Abraqan: lightning glimmering,

ribs drummed by thunders, thunder’s clouds

poured out on every grove and all those dancing boughs

which bend your way.

Creeks broke in flood, the breeze

was redolent, a ring dove glid,

a twig became a spray.


They raised their red domed tents between

serpent rills. Between them sat young women:

They were shining bright. Rising

like the suns. Their eyes were large and beautiful.

Gentle blood. First class. Supple.