It was for us, in Abraqan
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.