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Home » Uncategorized » Tomb of al-Mu’tamid ibn ‘Abbad (d. 1095) in Aghmat, Morocco

Tomb of al-Mu’tamid ibn ‘Abbad (d. 1095) in Aghmat, Morocco

Historical information about al-Mu’tamid: http://www.saudiaramcoworld.com/issue/199301/the.poet-king.of.seville.htm

His tomb:

Túmulo_do_poeta_português_(nascido_em_Beja)_Al-Mu’tamid_(3)

ضريح المعتمد

Túmulo_do_poeta_português_(nascido_em_Beja)_Al-Mu’tamid

قبر الغريب سقاك الرَائحُ الغادي
حقاً ظفرت بأشلاء ابن عبَاد
بالحلم، بالعلم، بالنَعمى إذا اتصلت
بالخصب إن أجربوا، بالريَ للعبَادي
بالطَاعن، الضَارب، الرَامي إذا اقتتلوا
بالموت أحمر، بالضَرغاجة العادي
بالدَهر في نِقَمٍ، بالبحر في نِعَمٍ
بالبدر في ظُلمٍ، بالصَدر في النادي
نعم، هو الحقَُ وافاني به قدرٌ
من السماء، فوافاني ل
ولم أكن قبل ذاك النعش أعلمُه
أنَ الجبال تهادى فوق أعواد
كفاك فارفُق بما استودعت من نجومٍ
روَاك كُلُ قطوبُ البرق رعَاد
يبكي أخاه الذي غيَبت وابله
تحت الصفيح، بدمع رائح غادي
حتى يجودك دمعُ الطلَ منهمراً
من أعين الزهرُ لم تبخل بإسعاد
ولا تزال صلواتُ الله دائمةً
على دفينك لا تُحص بتعداد

Reinos_de_Taifas_1080

After having been the emir of the rich and powerful Taifa kingdom of Sevilla until 1091, al-Mu’tamid was exiled to North Africa by the Almoravids. Some of al-Mu’tamid’s poetry (in translation) written during his captivity in Morocco:

In days gone by the festivals made thee joyous,

But sad is the festival which findeth thee a captive at Aghmat.

Thou seest thy daughters clothed in rags and dying of hunger;                     

They spin for a pittance, for they are destitute.

Worn with fatigue, and with downcast eyes, they come to embrace thee.   

They walk bare-footed in the mire of the streets,

Who once trod on musk and camphor!

Their hollow cheeks, furrowed with tears, attest their poverty….

Just as on the occasion of this sad festival

God grant that thou mayest never see another! –

Thou hast broken thy fast, so has thy heart broken hers:

Thy sorrow, long restrained, bursts for afresb.

Yesterday, when thou spakest the word all men obeyed;

Now thou art at the beck of others.

Kings who glory in their greatness are dupes of a vain dream!

“Woo not the world too rashly, for behold,
Beneath the painted silk and broidering,
It is a faithless and inconstant thing.
(Listen to me, Mu’tamid growing old.)

And we–that dreamed youth’s blade would never rust,
Hoped wells from the mirage, roses from the sand–
The riddle of the world shall understand
And put on wisdom with the robe of dust.”

 

Image

(Alcazar in Sevilla, former site of al-Mu’tamid’s palace)

 


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