Wake upon Wakefulness (Ariqun ʿalā Ariq): Al-Mutanabbi

بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ

 

These famous lines carry a special force in the hearts of believers. In their original literary setting, some scholars may discuss them within the praise tradition of classical Arabic poetry, yet in devotional writing and sermons many of us are naturally drawn to hear them as applying most truly to the Messenger of Allah ﷺ. That is because when the name Muhammad is spoken in words of unmatched praise, mercy, beauty, and incomparability, the believing heart turns first to the Prophet ﷺ, the most beloved of creation and the fullest embodiment of noble character. So when we cite these verses in an article, lesson, or khutbah, we are often not making a narrow historical claim about the poet’s first intention; rather, we are receiving the lines in a living tradition of love, reverence, and spiritual meaning. In that devotional sense, the verses express something deeply true to Muslim faith: that no one in any age can equal the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, and that the soul recognizes in such language a fitting tribute to the one whom Allah sent as a mercy to the worlds.

أرَقٌ عَلى أرَقٍ وَمِثْلي يَأرَقُ

وَجَوًى يَزيدُ وَعَبْرَةٌ تَتَرَقْرَقُ

Wake upon wakefulness (insomnia)—and one like me must wake;
longing swells, and tears shimmer before the fall

 

جُهْدُ الصّبابَةِ أنْ تكونَ كما أُرَى

 

 عَينٌ مُسَهَّدَةٌ وقَلْبٌ يَخْفِقُ

Love at its farthest pitch can make of one no more
than a sleepless eye and a heart forever quick. 

(Note: extreme longing: an eye denied sleep, a heart that cannot settle)

 
مَا لاحَ بَرْقٌ أوْ تَرَنّمَ طائِرٌ

إلاّ انْثَنَيْتُ وَلي فُؤادٌ شَيّقُ

Whenever lightning flares, whenever birds begin, 
I turn at once—my yearning heart pulled after.

(Note: Lightning and birdsong are classic triggers of remembrance in Arabic love poetry)

جَرّبْتُ مِنْ نَارِ الهَوَى ما تَنطَفي

 

نَارُ الغَضَا وَتَكِلُّ عَمّا يُحْرِقُ

I have known in passion such a fire
that ghadā-wood’s blaze would faint and fail before it.

 (Note: Ghadā is a desert tree famous for fierce-burning wood)

وَعَذَلْتُ أهْلَ العِشْقِ حتى ذُقْتُهُ

 

فعجبتُ كيفَ يَموتُ مَن لا يَعشَقُ

I blamed the lovers once, until I tasted love;
then I wondered how the loveless can be said to die.

 

وَعَذَرْتُهُمْ وعَرَفْتُ ذَنْبي أنّني

 

عَيّرْتُهُمْ فَلَقيتُ منهُمْ ما لَقُوا

I pardoned them—and knew my own offense:
I had shamed them, and so I met the fate they met.

 

أبَني أبِينَا نَحْنُ أهْلُ مَنَازِلٍ

 

أبَداً غُرابُ البَينِ فيها يَنْعَقُ

O sons of one father, ours are houses
where the raven of parting cries forever.

 (Note: “The raven of parting” is a stock image in classical poetry: a dark omen of separation, departure, and loss.)

نَبْكي على الدّنْيا وَمَا مِنْ مَعْشَرٍ

 

جَمَعَتْهُمُ الدّنْيا فَلَمْ يَتَفَرّقُوا

We weep for this world; yet never has it gathered a people
without one day scattering them apart.

.
أينَ الأكاسِرَةُ الجَبابِرَةُ الأُلى

 

كَنَزُوا الكُنُوزَ فَما بَقينَ وَلا بَقوا

Where are the Kisrās (Persian Emperors), those old tyrannical kings
who hoarded treasure? Neither hoards nor hoarders stayed.

 

من كلّ مَن ضاقَ الفَضاءُ بجيْشِهِ

 

حتى ثَوَى فَحَواهُ لَحدٌ ضَيّقُ

How many whose armies cramped the breadth of earth—
then a narrow grave was wide enough for them.

 

خُرْسٌ إذا نُودوا كأنْ لم يَعْلَمُوا

 

أنّ الكَلامَ لَهُمْ حَلالٌ مُطلَقُ

Silent when called, as though they had never known
that speech was theirs, lawful and unconfined.

 

فَالمَوْتُ آتٍ وَالنُّفُوسُ نَفائِسٌ

 

وَالمُستَغِرُّ بِما لَدَيهِ الأَحمَقُ

Death is on the way, and souls are the real precious valuables
the fool is the one deceived by what  (material things) he owns.
 

 

وَالمَرْءُ يأمُلُ وَالحَيَاةُ شَهِيّةٌ

 

وَالشّيْبُ أوْقَرُ وَالشّبيبَةُ أنْزَقُ

Man keeps on hoping, for life is sweet;
old age is steadier, youth more rash.

 

وَلَقَدْ بَكَيْتُ على الشَّبابِ وَلمّتي

 

مُسْوَدّةٌ وَلِمَاءِ وَجْهي رَوْنَقُ

I wept for youth while still my hair was black,
while the brightness of my face had not yet dimmed.

 (Note: “The water of my face” in Arabic suggests both physical bloom and something of one’s dignity or social brightness.) 

 

حَذَراً عَلَيْهِ قَبلَ يَوْمِ فِراقِهِ

 

حتى لَكِدْتُ بمَاءِ جَفني أشرَقُ

I feared for it before the day of parting came,
until I almost choked upon the water of my eyes.

 

أمّا بَنُو أوْسِ بنِ مَعْنِ بنِ الرّضَى

 

فأعزُّ مَنْ تُحْدَى إليهِ الأيْنُقُ

But the sons of Aws ibn Maʿn ibn al-Riḍā—
most noble are they to whom the choicest she-camels are driven.

 

كَبّرْتُ حَوْلَ دِيارِهِمْ لمّا بَدَتْ

 

منها الشُّموسُ وَليسَ فيها المَشرِقُ

I cried, “God is greatest,” round their dwellings when they rose in sight:
suns were dawning there, though no east was there.

 

وعَجِبتُ من أرْضٍ سَحابُ أكفّهمْ

 

من فَوْقِها وَصُخورِها لا تُورِقُ

I marveled at a land above which the clouds of their hands hang—
and still its rocks do not leaf.

 

وَتَفُوحُ من طِيبِ الثّنَاءِ رَوَائِحٌ

 

لَهُمُ بكُلّ مكانَةٍ تُسْتَنشَقُ

From the sweetness of praising them there drift such scents
that every station in the world breathes them in.

 

مِسْكِيّةُ النّفَحاتِ إلاّ أنّهَا

 

وَحْشِيّةٌ بِسِواهُمُ لا تَعْبَقُ

Musk-laden are those wafts—yet wild (untamed) and shy:
for none but them do they release their fragrance.

 

أمُريدَ مِثْلِ مُحَمّدٍ في عَصْرِنَا

 

لا تَبْلُنَا بِطِلابِ ما لا يُلْحَقُ

Do you ask for one like Muhammad ﷺ in our age?

Do not trouble us with pursuit of the unattainable.

  (Note: “Some scholars argue that within this praise sequence, “Muhammad” is a noble figure inside the patronal line, not the Prophet; al-Wāḥidī’s heading identifies the poem as praise for Abū al-Muntaṣir Shujāʿ b. Muḥammad b. Aws, as the qasida itself has already turned to Banū Aws before naming Muḥammad. Although the strongest critique of that is that it is highly unlikely that a practicing Muslim like Al-Mutanabbi would use such praise for anyone other than the Prophet  ﷺ, especially the couplet below) 

لم يَخْلُقِ الرَّحمنُ مثلَ مُحَمّدٍ

 

أحَداً وَظَنّي أنّهُ لا يَخْلُقُ

The Merciful has fashioned no one like Muhammad ﷺ ;

I do not think He ever will.

 

يا ذا الذي يَهَبُ الكَثيرَ وَعِنْدَهُ

 

أنّي عَلَيْهِ بأخْذِهِ أتَصَدّقُ

You who give so much, and with such noble ease
that my taking from you seems alms I give to you—

 

أمْطِرْ عَليّ سَحَابَ جُودِكَ ثَرّةً

 

وَانظُرْ إليّ برَحْمَةٍ لا أغْرَقُ

Rain on me from the full clouds of your bounty,
but look on me with mercy, lest I drown.

 

كَذَبَ ابنُ فاعِلَةٍ يَقُولُ بجَهْلِهِ

 

ماتَ الكِرامُ وَأنْتَ حَيٌّ تُرْزَقُ

Lied that son of shame, speaking from sheer ignorance:
“The noble are dead”—while you live and are sustained.

  (Note: Ibn fāʿilah is a euphemistic insult, something like “son of a shameless woman.)