Had they not been tinged with blood that deepened their hue,
The caravan-guide would never have swerved from the straight road to his watering place.

O my beloved ones, will that former life ever return—
New again, fresh with the budding greenness of youth?

A season we spent in headlong rapture, each of us
Pulling the choicest corner of his robe toward delight.

And by the water they frequented there grazed a gazelle,
Its skin as delicate as the water’s own surface.

The brilliance of the full moon grows jealous of her radiance,
While the supple willow branch blushes at the softness of her figure.

He also said:

May the life-giving rain salute a homeland in Irbil, now effaced,
Overwhelmed by the vicissitudes of passing days.

Its encampments lie deserted, its familiar haunts are desolate,
Its meadows stand empty of grazing gazelles.

Hardship busied itself with its people till they scattered—
Blown by the winds of Saba to lands not meant for residence.

Though the hands of decay have toyed with it,
Erasing its landmarks and obliterating its traces,

How often there I satisfied the longings of youth
With high-spirited, noble companions.

Ibn Khallikān (1) said: “Sharaf al-Dīn was a man of lofty standing and boundless generosity, ever quick to visit newcomers and win their hearts. He was rich in virtues and well-versed in a number of disciplines, among them hadith, its branches, and its terminology (2). He excelled in belles-lettres, grammar, language, poetry, and the chronicles of the Arabs, and he was outstanding in chancery arithmetic.

He produced a commentary on the Diwān of al-Mutanabbī and that of Abū Tammām in ten volumes, and he wrote two volumes on the verses of al-Mufaṣṣal.

I heard much from him, and read to him as well. He left a collected Dīwān of poetry in which he showed great skill.

Ibn al-Shaʿār, in Qalāʾid al-Jumān (3), said: “The Ṣāḥib, along with his virtues …”