Status Updates From Poems of Arab Andalusia

I say to the cupbearer:

Give me your best,
change my silver
for the gold of wine.
In it I'll drown my sorrows.

On the surface foamy bubbles
form a pattern of white fingers
like those of an inveterate drinker
always holding a bottle in his hand.

Ubadah ibn Ma' al-Sama'
(d. 1030)

Look at the ripe wheat
bending before the wind


like the squadrons of horsemen
fleeing in defeat, bleeding
from the wounds of the poppies.

Ibn Iyād
(d. 1149)

My eye frees what the page imprisons:
the white the white and the black the black.

Ibn 'Ammar
(d. 1086)