and began hurling great stones with his catapults. Abū al-ʿAlāʾ then came out to intercede; Ṣāliḥ welcomed him warmly and asked, “Do you have any request?”

He replied, “The Emir—may Allah prolong his life—is like a keen sword: its body is smooth to the touch while its edge is unyielding. He is also like a radiant day(1): its zenith is scorching(2), yet its cool mornings and afternoons are delightful(3). ﴾Show forgiveness, enjoin what is right, and turn away from the ignorant﴿ (Q 7:199).”

Ṣāliḥ said, “I grant you Maʿarrat al-Nuʿmān. Now recite some of your poetry for us.”

Abū al-ʿAlāʾ at once declaimed a few spontaneous lines, and Ṣāliḥ withdrew(4).

Abū al-ʿAlāʾ kept a small private room where he would take his meals, saying, “A blind man is an exposure (ʿawra); it is obligatory that he keep himself out of sight.”

On one occasion he ate date-molasses, and a drop fell upon his chest. When he emerged to teach, someone asked, “Have you been eating molasses?” He quickly ran his hand across his chest, wiped the spot, and said, “Yes—may Allah curse gluttony!” They marvelled at his quick wit.

He would apologise to those who travelled to visit him and sigh over his inability to reward them(5).

Al-Bākhariṣī(6) said: “Abū al-ʿAlāʾ is a blind man with no peer(7), a sightless one wrapped in the robe of excellence. Though veiled, he has routed his most obstinate foe; his days have stretched long beneath the shade(8) of Islam, yet his vessel has oozed with heresy(9). We possess reports about his outward sight, but Allah knows best his inner vision and is fully aware of what lies within him. Only tongues(10) have spoken ill of him.”