The hanging poem of Imru’ al-Qays
The mu’allaqat — literally, the ‘hanging ones’ — are several widely renowned poems of the pre-Islamic Arabic corpus, so named because they’re said to have adorned the walls of the Ka’ba, that holy religious site which, even then, was a center of widespread worship and pilgrimage.
Imru’ al-Qays was a 6th century warrior-poet who composed one of the mu’allaqat, and who, like many of his contemporaries, focused on themes relating to Arab chivalry: the seduction of woman, taming of great beasts, skill with swords and arrows, and victory in battles.
Here are the first six stanzas of the hanging poem of Imru’ al-Qays, along with a short discussion.
The first six lines
قِفَا نَبْكِ مِنْ ذِكْرَى حَبِيبٍ ومَنْزِلِ/ بِسِقْطِ اللِّوَى بَيْنَ الدَّخُول فَحَوْمَلِ
Let’s stop and cry over the memory of a lover and a place, in the drop of the valley between Dakhul and Haumal.
فَتُوْضِحَ فَالمِقْراةِ لمْ يَعْفُ رَسْمُها / لِمَا نَسَجَتْهَا مِنْ جَنُوبٍ وشَمْألِ
And Taudih and Mikrat. Its traces haven’t been wiped out from what weaved them back and forth of the south and northern winds
تَرَى بَعَرَ الأرْآمِ فِي عَرَصَاتِهَ / وَقِيْعَانِهَا كَأنَّهُ حَبُّ فُلْفُل
Look at antelope-dropping on its alleys, its tracts like seeds of pepper
كَأنِّي غَدَاةَ البَيْنِ يَوْمَ تَحَمَّاو/ لَدَى سَمُرَاتِ الحَيِّ نَاقِفُ حَنْظَلِ
As if it’s only been a morning since the day they departed, and I’m at a nearby thorn tree, splitting desert gourds
وُقُوْفًا بِهَا صَحْبِي عَليَّ مَطِيَّهُ / يَقُوْلُوْنَ: لا تَهْلِكْ أَسَىً وَتَجَمَّلِ
And standing near it are my companions, on their travel-animals, saying: don’t suffer from sorrow, remain firm
وإِنَّ شِفائِيَ عَبْرَةٌ مُهْرَاقَةٌ / فَهَلْ عِنْدَ رَسْمٍ دَارِسٍ مِنْ مُعَوَّلِ
But my healing is a matter of spilling tears, so is there a trace here from a reliable artist?
Discussion
The form of this poem is the same as all classical Arabic poetry. Each line is the combination of two verses, each called a bayt. The second bayt ends with a qafiyah, or rhyme, which is repeated throughout the poem. In the mu’allaqa of Imru’ al-Qays, the terminal rhyme is li: the final word of the first six lines are haumali, sham’ali, fulfuli, hanzali, tajamali, and mu’awali.
These six lines represent a common theme among classical Arabic poetry, the wuquf ‘ala al-atlal, or “standing at the ruins”. Having come across the site of his beloved’s former habitation, the lovesick Arabian poet will offer a few lines in order to honor her memory and speak to the impermanence of the human condition.
What does the melancholic poet mean to say when he describes himself, in line four, as splitting desert gourds? A common explanation is that this fruit, which is found throughout the Arabian peninsula and is also called colocynth, is so bitter that simply splitting it apart would cause the eyes to water. This would therefore appear to be a poetic way for Imru’ al-Qays to say that he’s crying.
However, I was fortunate enough to come across a Youtube video by a Saudi man who puts forth another interpretation. Having tried the experiment of splitting desert gourds for himself, and noting no concurrent irritation of his eyes, he supposes that the Arabian poet was actually likening himself to a seeker of the plant’s seeds, which as attested by several later Islamic physicians, were widely known for their healing effects.
So then, Imru’ al-Qays is describing himself as a sick man, whose affliction, of course, is a broken heart: a heart as worn and tattered as the ruins at which he stands.
