We seek the good pleasure of Allah, not the favor of people; to Allah belongs whatever is manifest and whatever is hidden.

Abās ibn Mirdās also said:

What ails your eye, so restless and wakeful,
a dark ḥamāṭah berry half-veiled by its lashes?
An eye to which sleeplessness keeps returning out of grief,
so that at times the tears drown it and then cascade.
They seem a string of pearls before the one who threads them—
the cord has snapped and the beads lie scattered.
Far—so far—is the dwelling of the one whose love you seek;
between you and him stretch al-Ṣammān and then al-Ḥafar.
Leave behind the pledges of youth, for youth has gone,
and gray-and-tawny hairs have taken its place.
Remember Sulaym’s valor in its fields of war;
in Sulaym the men of pride find cause for pride.
They are a people who gave victory to the Most Merciful
and followed the Prophet’s religion while mankind’s affairs were in turmoil.
No young date-palms are planted in their midst,
no cattle low in their winter camps;
Nothing moves there but fleet mares like circling eagles,
tethered close within an arena ringed by peril and swirling dust.
On its edges dwell Khufāf and ʿAwf,
and the clan of Dhakwān—neither timid nor weary.
They struck the hosts of idolatry in the open plain,
in the heart of Mecca while souls were being snatched away,
Till we drove them back, their slain like uprooted palms
flung across the bare expanse of al-Baṭḥāʾ.
On the Day of Ḥunayn our stand brought glory to the faith,
a treasure laid up with Allah.
We rode into death whose lining was green,
while from the horses billowed a thick and murky glare.
Beneath the banner, with al-Ḍaḥḥāk at our head,
like a lion pacing through his shadowed thickets,
In a narrow pass where war’s torrent boiled—
so fierce that sun and moon seemed near to setting.
At Autās we held our spear-points firm;
for Allah we help whom we will, and by Him we prevail,
Till the tribes fell back to their dwellings; but for the Sovereign—and for us—
they would never have withdrawn.
You will not find a people, few or many,
without discovering the trace we left among them.

Abās also said:

O rider borne along by a broad-chested, full-blooded she-camel,
thick-hooved and swift,
If you reach the Prophet, then say to him—
when the gathering grows still—that truth binds you to him.