The sweetest sad poetry

I cry and cry with sorrow and darkness

For the poet Al-Haifa bint Sabih Al-Quda’iyah:

• I cry and cry in sorrow and darkness

Ali a boy of Tglibhi origin Dhargham

I am eager for him, and he is not useful for me

Unless you fight knights and peoples

Say to Al-Hujaib, "God will sew from a man."

You bore the shame of all the people of Shem

Will your son be killed by Ali, son of Fatima?

And he drinks water with troubled dreams

By God, I still cry and mourn him

Until my uncles and uncles visit you

With all brown, the heel is moderate

And the all white net border bottle

He replaced me by being away from him

For the poet Ibn Sana al-Mulk:

• He compensated me for being far from being close to him

And whoever sleeps with him by staying up late

I am the one who remembers him in heaven

And from my tears after him in a river

Between my grief and his good mandarin

For the poet Ibn al-Saati:

• Between my grief and his good mandarin

Lineage like morning is not invited

Did not leave this treacherous notice

An eyeball of patience for the loyal task

bubbly eyelids seething seething

From him in the sip of his Babylonian saliva

He complains about his buttock accuracy

You don't complain about the weak, the oppression of the strong

Who wept, who laughed, and who laughed

I am free and benevolent with my touch

And the rich of passion is poor from tuberculosis

So he was impressed by the rich poor

Will not answer the call is Baha Aldi

N Turb al-Nada Hilal al-Nada

The carpenter is a descendant of our praise

higher than the highest glory

And praise that he offered money

And a juicy show on the mandali

Sayer, doer, and that is through

In him it was before him in the Prophet

The promise is true, the covenant is valid

The male proved alive, abundant Al Habbi

Without his delegation, he has no vigilance

m in it or shake moderator

grief party

For the poet Nizar Qabbani:

• If the homeland is an exile like me

And he thinks of his mother's white sheets like me

And the black house cat, like me

If the homeland is forbidden to commit writing like me

And commit culture like me

So why not enter the sanatorium where we are?

Why not be a member of the grief party

Which includes a hundred million Arabs

When the heart goes away

For the poet Abd al-Rahman al-Ashmawy:

• gone? No, but my heart is gone

So who says if I come to hello?

And whoever travels in my heart sees hope

sweet" and see in his extremities and exaltation?

And whoever styles the hair of the night, does not dance

His stars after we were absent or celebrated?

And who teaches the light of the full moon a song

We used to keep it from others out of shame?

It reassures myself after I miss it

And who dries my tears after they're down?

And whoever returns to Sabri his dignity

After what is bothering about my wound and what it bears?

She left? No, but my smile left

And everything that brings joys to me is gone

How much in my heart is in you

For the poet Ibn Alawi Al-Haddad:

• How much in my heart is in you

O life of soul and body

What Twaa in the day in the blood

and alienation of oneself at home

Other than my longing and my love

With you, my soul, my flower

My mind has become a fool of you

My time is distressed and twisted

You are gone from me, my hope

So my heart was filled with shame

And my tears ran from the eyelids

Like life flows from a storehouse

Oh tortured speech and mustache

You don't sympathize with a depressed person

Melted guts from the flame

He and his ailments are in a halter

Oh beautiful sweets and pajamas

And gentle and kissing

You are the antidote to ills

It is pests and misfortunes

O deer of dunes and tents

To the right of the lost and peace

Do you continue to be in constant pain

Inspired by the artistic dimensions

Your nearness to his highest demands

And meeting the sorrow of his desires

Between groaning and remembrance

For the poet Mustafa Al-Tal:

• Between groaning and remembrance

The farther the old age expires

Then remove your hands from life

One day I gave up passion patiently

What is the value and decoration of the world?

If your heart is a rock

We turn a blind eye if a miss greets him

It is fragile if you look at him scornfully

And his ribs are squalid and lonely

Infidelity and treachery belch

It was like a ghost

A grave that looks like a grave

The antelopes of Wadi Al-Seer are they alienated

From Sarbken brown doe

She is the one who wrote her fingertips

In the travel of my love verse gras

Ali recited a surah out of passion

She recited it, singing poetry

And I went on to ask every babe

Generous presence, a look of disgust

And I posted my dreams and told her

In yourself and scratch the glad tidings

She cried as I cry and her tears overflowed

For the poet, Al-Qadi Al-Fadil:

• She cried as I cry and her tears overflowed

And you did not disclose secrets like the overflow of my tears

A sign of an oppressed and a lesson of a lover

A captivating stomachache and an awful color

She raised teeth to the sea of ​​darkness

He did not receive it except by taking off the shields

I was amazed at her when the night killed her light

And it is not from it, but from it, a good effluent

I repent of sorrows and sleeplessness

For the poetess Al-Khansa:

• How do I repent of sorrows and sleeplessness?

The eyes of me are calm, their tears are pearls

Crying for a rock that time has mastered it

When the event of days and fate exalted him

His graceful manners exceed his talents

Wafi Al-Dhimam, if the coven treacherous

The abode of the poor, and the abode of every widow

At the converter if the decision blows

The century did not stand out during a battle

Only for him is the day when the ball will surpass the nail

What a great cry in the ruins

For the poet:

• What a great cry in ruins

And my question, will you answer my question?

Dimna, a wilderness, swayed by Si

There are two winds from Saba and North

There is no memory of a splint here or who

He came from it with a sect of horrors

My family settled in the belly of Ghamis, so they became

Lee and solved Alawiya Balsakhal

You graze on the slope, then the dune, so it is

The cat's homework is the same as the head

May a breach without it silence the sword

A mile leads to miles

And a yuki watering on the fullness of boredom

E and Sir and Mustaqbal Ochal

Inclusion after sleep and spelling

R stood, sabbath, and sand

And a heart that is crazier, as if from irrigation

u with its back to goth blades

So if the shrine is ruined by me, I will be deceived

Do a few worries soft mind

As it is the concern and the hadeeth, and when it came

Say to me the prince of sayings