Lament for Seville

Wondering through Cordoba over a fortnight ago I was surprised at the feelings of nostalgia and sadness stirred up within me.

I recently stumbled across some poetry that perfectly captures the allure of Andalucia. The first couple are relatively contemporary pieces by Allamah Mohammed Iqbal penned in the 1930s after visiting the cities of Madrid, Toledo, Granada, Cordoba, and Seville. The second is a classical work by Abu al-Baqa' al-Rundi, a poet from Ronda who died in 1285. 'The poem was written in the hope of gaining aid from Muslims in North Africa to help battle Christian armies. Although the fall of Seville is its theme, the text was actually written in 1267, after the Nasrid ruler Muhammad ibn al-Ahmar surrendered several cities to Alfonso X. The poet refers to events in ancient Arabian and Persian history as well as to the capture of Seville in his attempt to inspire military support.'

A Prayer: Written in a Mosque in Cordoba - Iqbal

Whose lofty, inspired vision blessed the East and the West,
Whose wisdom was a beacon in Europe’s Dark Ages;
Who left an abiding imprint on the Andalusian mind:
A cheerful spirit and warmth, a simple, genial soul.
Abundant in this land today is gazelle-eyed beauty;
So are the shafts that pierce the heart from those gazelle eyes.
Wafted on its breeze still is Yemen’s aroma sweet;
And in its sights and sounds is the holiness of Hijaz.
In the eyes of the gazing stars thy earth is exalted as heaven;
Alas! for long thy walls have not echoed with the sound of azan.

Spain - Iqbal

Treasure the Muslim blood,
That sanctified thy soil;
Thou art pure and holy,
Like the holy precincts.

Buried in thy dust are imprints
Of heads that bowed in prayer,
And thy breeze at dawn
Echoes the sound of azan.

Granada, the eye of the world.
In the twilight of time,
Pierces the heart that bleeds
For glories that are no more.

(An extract from) Lament for Seville - Abu al-Baqa' al-Rundi

Therefore ask Valencia what is the state of Murcia; and where is Jativa, and where is Jaén?

Where is Cordoba, the home of the sciences, and many a scholar whose rank was once lofty in it?

Where is Seville and the pleasures it contains, as well as its sweet river overflowing and brimming full?

[They are] capitals which were the pillars of the land, yet when the pillars are gone, it may no longer endure!

The tap of the white ablution fount weeps in despair, like a passionate lover weeping at the departure of the beloved,

Read the full poem here (and in Arabic here).