Oh, woe to my heart, I care nothing more after today.

Oh, woe to the heart after today, it cares nothing!
 The memory of a beloved one in some part of the land has troubled him.
Sulayma said, "I see you are depressed today."
And after me, I saw that the gray hair had marred my head.
And he was confused after the blackness of his head, his hair was turned black.
Like the hem of a silk garment when you spread out its fringe.
And a lookout post where eagles inhabit its summit.
I looked down upon him, his face radiant, and my soul was filled with awe.
Intentionally, to observe what blessings the atmosphere holds.
So, a gazelle is coming from it, and its unmarried inhabitants.
I descended to a saddled camel.
Their hair was disheveled, as if there were a forest above them.
When we mounted, we lifted them up with a great swaying.
Until we contained livestock and then their owners.
Poem by Imru' al-Qays al-Kindi

Nibras Al-Madih

This is a poem praising his good memory.
The meaning of pride is elevated when we come to meet him.
In you, generosity is a refuge of hope.
Our hearts were heavy, so we opened the door to his right.
Noble and brave, and in you lies the vastness of the dream.
With wisdom, the face and countenance shine.
She walks with humility and her morals are radiant.
People elevate you, each according to their piety.
Noble lineage and a pure, glorious reputation
Its fragrant history is still alive today.
A wise leader when called upon by his nation
He answered the call with unparalleled determination.
He gives and blossoms, planting goodness in our hands.
And he does something if his strength weakens
A sound statement, and his vision is evident in times of crisis.
Light is a guide when darkness prevails.
Hearts yearn to see him smiling
Kindness is in his actions and gentleness is his reward.
O Gatherer of praise, O Source of generosity
With pride we raise our banners and proclaim our cause
This is praise, and truth is evident in it.
And love writes what its whispers conceal.
We follow in his footsteps and preserve his legacy.
A faithful promise if he calls to his pasture
He remains an example, and we will cherish his memory in the days to come.
Praise poem

A poem by Hamidan Al-Turki

O Lord, all praise is due to You when the dawn of certainty breaks forth.
And the long, dark night, silent for years, finally gave way to dawn.
Hamidan returned in the company of the pious and the faithful.
He walks confidently, and his step is a beacon for those who seek guidance.
Twenty-odd years in captivity under injustice and oppressors
Patience and calling to God are the way of the heart, the provision of the righteous.
What the shackles of oppression have prevented, there is neither a barrier nor a strong gate.
And the heart raises its whispered prayer with those who bow and prostrate.
Until the promised relief came to him, the promise of the patient.
Then the light of God flowed, illuminating the path of those years.
And those shackles broke from two pure hands
And the house of patience shook for an age, like the house of the devout.
That companion, the pearl of the faithful covenant, the crown of the righteous
The family bonds were strengthened under the banner of the steadfast.
She raised her sons with her pure wisdom, a righteous people.
Go forth and pray, never tiring, the hope of the faithful.
Until He bestowed upon her the reward of the righteous, out of His grace and kindness.
The pain melted away when the trustworthy one embraced her.
Her cheeks beamed like a holiday on the day of returnees.
And souls blossomed with smiles like the garden of conquerors.
The people of Saudi Arabia cheered him on, rejoicing.
And they filled the horizon with recitations and praises of the grateful.
They said: With hardship comes ease, a promise from the Lord of the Worlds.
These glad tidings will never leave the hearts of the truthful.
And praise resounds, then whispers in the hearts of the believers.
Proceed with confidence, for the Lord of the Throne is the supporter of the oppressed.
A poem by Hamidan Al-Turki (Free of Spirit)

A poem about the homeland

O my homeland, O source of faith and inspiration
In you, the Two Holy Mosques shine a light of mercy that spreads harmony.
Mecca and the Sacred House are sacred sites that cannot be violated.
And the city of Tayyiba guides hearts to peace.
In your green banner is a lofty glory and order
And justice in your glorious courts is a rule that cannot be violated.
O Qibla of the world and haven of every yearning heart
We find the embrace of the morning breeze and harmony
And the Hijaz tells of its history, the path of the generous.
And on its shores, the boats whisper melodies
The East is adorned with palm trees, deserts, and clouds.
And the quarter in your spacious embrace, visions become dreams
And the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques sponsors your tolerant approach and commitment.
The people around the green flag represent revival and respect.
We move forward and build a civilization for life that will endure through the ages.
We will protect your security and your land, and we will defend you always.
And you see hearts blossoming with love and passion at your call.
In every path of your lands, a valiant youth rises
The founder's glory in your footsteps leads us forward
O my homeland, your promise is in my blood, a dawn of glory and peace.
A poem about the homeland – Arab poems

I thought you were something else

I thought you were something else; I thought you were my safety. Your honesty has become a habit, and time has run out for us.
I didn't know you were being distant and that you were harsher than separation.I have no feelings left, I have no words left.
Every day I say, maybe tomorrow Tayyub will come back to meBut my heart's hopes were dashed, and reproach began to plague me. 
All I asked for was your presence, all I wanted was for you to stay.But time gave you a chance, and your heart turned away, choosing distance.
What do you want me to complain to you about? Wounds that won't heal.Neither my sorrow at your coldness nor my patience at your rejection 
I have no feelings left, I have no words left.
I said, "May God be with you," out of anger, not contentment.But my heart's dignity is more precious than any remaining longing. 
Salama bint Mubarak Al Khaili

I speak to my people collectively, without exception or euphemism.

I speak to all my people without exception or euphemism.Abu Ja`far is the sea of ​​glory and the rain of the clouds.
The Arab youth called upon in times of peace for generosityAnd its knight, called upon in war to stab
A cloud that gives rain, a fire that rages.He possesses the strength of an Indian in the swaying of a branch.
We sought refuge in His kindness, as if weBecause of our protection there, we took refuge in a fortress.
He obeyed the Almighty in every decree she issued.So distance yourself from what you distance yourself from, and bring near what you bring near.
The month of Rabi' has a blessing that cannot be fully repaid.Praise is due, and even if we were to offer many times more praise, we would still still be grateful.
We are safe from the vicissitudes of time after fearing them.He has, and after fear, he finds solace in security.
The days passed in it and cameThe nights are ugly, yet they are beautiful.
The next morning, he was released from his prison by the sea.I never imagined that the sea could be forbidden in a prison.
And he has no crime but forgiveness.If the perpetrator is held accountable for some of what he has committed
His resolve wavered in the iron.Iron is worn down by its rough sides.
The sadness of days that passed over a hillSo they were uprooted like soft, supple wood.
The vicissitudes of time have not weakened that resolve.And nothing bad could shake that pillar.
And when the dawn of certainty appeared and the truth was revealedIt is the darkness of the night, far removed from the suspicion of doubt.
He appeared to us from his prison while he was outThe sun's rays emerging from the side of the cloud.
It overflows, just as the clouds overflow, in succession.Its showers, with their downpour and their rain
Muhammad, live for the noble deeds that have been chosen.Your hands and the high glory which you build
How many a white hand from you has no hand at all?And from a radiant favor from You, without obligation
Al-Buhturi

oudy

Return, Fawz, for spring has returned.
And my heart was consumed by the pangs of sorrow.
Why does she always turn away whenever I try to win?
She spoke to me and said, "The appointment is tomorrow."
Oh, my longing is burning!
And the boy is certainly bound by a promise
Despite myself, I lived far away from you.
Far away, there beyond the walls of the homeland
Whenever I complained to my companions about the separation
My friend turned away from me and became sad.
I'm sorry for my youthful recklessness.
Forgive me, may God curse trials.
I was a lost and deluded wanderer
I have no homeland on earth.
I left home and family together
When the trials intensified
Then she emigrated to the farthest reaches of the land.
What they said is incomprehensible if a person speaks gibberish.
Then I returned after a while, full of regret.
I long for the meeting, even if time is long.
She says, "Where is the memory of your youth?"
After we grew old and became frail
..
Where are those promises and pledges from us?
Our families left us, and the caravan abandoned us.
And clouds with thunder and lightning
The rain abandoned it and it did not produce clouds.
And we complained about the hardship of the days of the siege
There is hardship or shortage of supplies
And alienation without any good to be expected
Sleeplessness has kept my eyes awake
Such is time, a ruin of events.
Ignorant is he who is deceived by his promise or feels secure
No true friend keeps his promise
There is no trustworthy companion on the path.
I have become a tourist in the universe
There is no one on the earth who lives
And I accepted the role when I played it
My heart finds peace in whatever fate decrees.
Nostalgia drives me to the sky of Baghdad
In the Karkh district, my heart is entrusted
..
Come back so I can tell you about alienation.
And hadiths from the land of Yemen
From the land of Bilqis, which I traversed
From Saada to the Sea of ​​Aden
So that we may converse in pure friendship
They were far away, and days of hardship befell them.
Our lives that have gone to waste
We no longer have anything we can call a homeland.
Saleh Mahdi Abbas Al-Mandeel