I took up the staff—not because weakness had forced it upon me, nor because old age has bent my back (1); rather, I obliged myself to carry it so that my soul might know that the one who seems settled is in truth on a journey.

[Among those who passed away in this same year] was Shaykh Abū ʿUmar ibn ʿAbd al-Barr al-Namari (2), the ḥāfiẓ, author of the [elegant and monumental] works al-Tamhīd, al-Istidhkār, al-Istīʿāb, and others—may Allah be pleased with him and envelop him in His grace and generosity.

Ibn Zaydūn the poet (3)—Aḥmad ibn ʿAbd Allāh ibn Aḥmad ibn Ghālib ibn Zaydūn, Abū al-Walīd, the masterful Andalusian poet of Córdoba—established close ties with the Emir al-Muʿtamid ibn ʿAbbād, ruler of Seville. He enjoyed great favor with him, serving as a trusted adviser in the rank of vizier, and later his son Abū Bakr ibn Abī Walīd also held the vizierate under the same prince. He is the author of the celebrated “separation ode” (qaṣīdah al-farāqiyyah) in which he says (4):

You parted from us, and we from you, yet our hearts are never dry
with longing, nor have our tear-filled eyes run dry.
Whenever our souls secretly speak with you, grief would finish us
were it not for the solace we find in patience.
Because of your distance our days have changed: they have turned black
when once, with you, our nights were bright as dawn.
Yesterday we lived together with no fear of division;
today we are apart, with no hope of reunion.

It is a lengthy poem, powerfully crafted, one that moves every reader or hearer to tears, for there is no one in this world who has not lost a friend, a beloved, a relative, or a kinsman.

Among his other verses (5):