I thought of you

اخذ ابوه بيده الى محفل من الناس في ايام الحج فسألهم ابوه ان يدعوا الله تعالي بالفراج فلما اخذ الناس في الدعاء انشأ يقول

ذكرتك والحجيج لهم ضجيج
بمكة والقلوب لها وجيب

فَقُلْتُ وَنَحْنُ فِي بَلدٍ حَرامٍ
بِهِ واللّه أُخْلِصَتِ القلُوبُ

أتوب إليك يارحمن مما
عملت فقد تظاهرت الذنوب

فأما من هوى ليلى وتركي
زِيارتَها فَإنِّي لا أَتوبُ

وكيف وعندها قلبي رهين
أتوب إليك منها أو أنيب

قيس بن الملوح‎


[The poet's] father drags him by the hand to a gathering of some in the midst of their Pilgrimage. His father asks them to implore God for his sake --- for freedom from sin. As the people take to prayer, [the poet] says:

I thought of you, as heart-crossed pilgrims
mixed their wail by Makkah; in this

hallowed land I called on Him, who
parts the heart of disbelief: O

Merciful, forgive me all for all I’ve done
that smacked or smelt of sin,

but as to my love for Layla & me leaving her
to foot her course alone -- I can’t side

with you; how could I, since she has my heart
devoted, turn to you, leaving her spurned?

- Qays ibn al-Mulawwah, from "Layla and Majnun"

Night fell; your favor never falls, your sight's
more suited to the eye than being shut;

you showed such grace that even half of me
was made to testify against the rest it ever was.

The calm above the heavens is His roof,
you worship him walkingly on earth.

Al-Mutanabbi


مضَى اللّيلُ والفضْلُ الذي لك لا يمضِي
ورُؤياكَ أحلى في العيونِ من الغُمضِ

على أنّني طُوّقْتُ مِنْكَ بنِعْمَةٍ
شَهيدٌ بها بعضِي لغيري على بَعضي

سَلامُ الذي فَوْقَ السّماواتِ عَرْشُهُ
تُخَصّ بهِ يا خَيرَ ماشٍ على الأرْضِ

المتنبي

from Majnun and Layla

إذا نظـرت نحوي تكلم طرفهـا وجاوبـها طرفي ونحن سكـوت
فواحـدة منهـا تبشـر باللقـا وأخـرى لها نفسي تكاد تـموت
إذا مت خوف الياس احياني الرجا فكـم مرة قد مت ثـم حييـت
ولو أحدقوا بي الإنس والجن كلهم لكي يـمنعوني أن أجيك لجيـت

قيس بن الملوح‎
من ديوان مجنون و ليلى


When she turned an eye towards me, it spoke;
& with a look, I answered mutely back:

one glance from her is the chance
of an encounter, another’s almost dying:

when despair terrified me to death, this little ghost
revived me (how many times I've died only to live).

So if the men & jinn begird me
to defer my journey, I'll still come.

Qays ibn al-Mulawwah, from "Majnun and Layla"

(“The fainting of Laylah and Majnun,” a Persian illustration of
a scene from Nizami's adaptation of the poem. Source: Library of Congress)

The majnun (or madman) of "Layla and Majnun" is actually the poet himself -- the work is an outpouring of poetry dedicated to Layla -- unlike the Persian adaptation of the work by Nizami, Qay's work really doesn't contain a solid narrative structure -- bearing more resemblance to Petrarch's Canzoniere (though Qays was around nearly 9 centuries before Petrarch!).

from Interpreter of Desires

ليت شعري هل دروا
اي قلب ملكوا

و فوادي لو درى
اي شعب سلكوا

اتراهم سلموا
ام تراهم هلكوا

حار ارباب الهوى
في الهوى و ارتبكوا

ابن عربي


Would that I could tell if they
had known the heart they held,

or my heart, if it could know
what mountain trail they trod.

Did they seem safe to you,
or did they look already dead?

Those who lorded love, in love, turned
upon themselves and were ensnared.

- Ibn Arabi
Section I from Interpreter of Desires.

Miranda

Writing do you wave, O wond'r,
water's blue cardiac over green,

you do not spell, you monstrous sit
on the dumb shore & pond'r

if this only coast is that o'er
which you’d break your prospr's word (you do):

Wondrous, wondrous. Was it
then this all-ey'd sea,

lawer to your farther shore,
that never turn'd a shape more

diff'rnt than what
submerg'd your own --

the first shore furth'r from that
which sing'rly broke in you, or was

another the world
made erworld by?

You stare to Ur & utter,
you wave your rite

to silent
be, to b', O n'w, O no'.