like the breath of a lovely maiden upon her mirror, once her beauty is complete though she is still unmarried. (1)

And Saʿīd says:
Do you not see the cloud, O hard-hearted one—
as though it were myself, measure for measure?
Its drops are like my tears, its lightning the blaze of sorrow
that burns within my heart, and its wind the sigh of my own breath. (2)

Abū Isḥāq al-Ṣābī (3) also composed about the two:
I behold the two Khalidite poets sending forth
odes that will remain eternal while the ages perish.
For in the union of their virtues they are one fused spirit,
yet in meaning—whichever way you turn—they stand as separate worlds.

Al-Nadīm states in the Fihrist: “They were quick at improvisation.”

Abū Bakr, one of the brothers, told me: “I have committed to memory a thousand tales, each tale running to about a hundred folios.”

He continued: “Yet whenever they admired something they would seize it from its owner—alive or dead; such was their nature.”

Abū ʿUthmān arranged his poems together with those of his brother, and I believe their servant Rashāʾ also classified them; the collection came to roughly a thousand folios. He later wrote, “They have both died,” and left the page blank, which shows that their death occurred before the year 377 AH.

Among their books are The Chronicle of Mosul, The Anecdotes of Abū Tammām, and other works of belles-lettres. (4)