Charbel Baini Declares “Love” for Women… and Doesn't Compromise!
By: Dr. Mostapha Helwe
President of the Arab Philosophical Union
Introduction/ As for love… “And as for the favour of your Lord, speak of it.” (Holy Quran)
Within the framework of the love/woman debate, this collection of poems, “I Love You,” is presented to us by a Lebanese Arab poet whose reputation has spread throughout the Australian diaspora, and who has become a leading figure among his peers in the diaspora.
“I Love You,” the title, prominently displayed, accompanied by a cover by the talented artist Randa Baini from Doha, “Al-Baini,” points to this creative dialogue between love and woman, leading us to the truth of the well-known saying, “A book is judged by its cover!” Indeed, our collection can be read through two interconnected and complementary titles—word and image—that place us before the message the poet Charbel Baini intended: a message of love, in all its vocabulary, connotations, and implications, declaring, without hesitation, his love for his beloved woman!
How could Baini not choose “I love you” as the title/message of his collection, when he sees his beloved as the most beautiful of all women God created: “...And I have chosen the most beautiful woman on earth / To tell her every morning: / I love you... Yes, I love you!” (from the poem: Daughter of Egypt)?! And how could he not, when in his poem “Tremors of Passion,” he asserts that “love is the highest blessing bestowed upon us / In it lies the heart’s happiness, or in it lies nourishment”?! When love becomes a blessing, it acquires a sacred quality, for blessings descend from God, thus necessitating gratitude through expressing these blessings: "And as for the favour of your Lord, speak of it!" Thus, our poet Al-Baini began to speak of the blessing of love, resulting in "The Anthology of Love," striving for the continuation of this blessing, for blessings endure through gratitude, as Imam Ali ibn Abi Talib (may God honour his face) said.
Immersed in the sanctity of love—with woman as its subject—the poet unleashes a resounding cry: "Love is a god embodied in hearts / Love is what created us," from the poem "Leaves of Confession," elevating it to the level of divinity and all that it reveals of creation! He followed this testimony with another, addressed to his beloved: “Your love, my darling, is sacred to me / Your love is a god I worship / And a moon from which I draw inspiration for my writings” (from the poem: Confessional Notes) ... This testimony, which associates another deity with God—love—finds its justification when we understand, from a Christian perspective, that “God is love,” and thus, in our philosophical terms, it is a merging of essence (God) and attribute (love)!
The matter was settled when our poet declared, in a section of the collection, “Love, since the beginning of love / Is the twin of God… So bear witness!” from the poem: (Enslaved).
And since Al-Baini wanted to reinforce the presence of the theme of love, he began his collection with the poem “I Love You,” which he also chose as the title for this collection. It's as if he's responding to the popular saying: "The first thing he does is light a candle along the way."
Not to mention that the titles of all the poems are like tributaries flowing into the overflowing river of his love!
...Returning to the debate of love/woman, or rather the debate of love/beauty—framed within the art of love poetry—this debate permeates the collection, with its forty-nine poems. We find ourselves before scenes brimming with: passion, yearning, passion, ecstasy, infatuation, love, intimate conversation, longing, weariness, submission, affection, companionship, infatuation, and rapture... These are the fourteen degrees of love, ascending from lowest to highest, as described by the Arabs. Charbel Baini adheres to them completely, making his collection truly "The Book of Love," soaring with his real or imagined beloved to the highest levels of love! In the collection: Poetic Styles, Essays, and Letters...
Forty-nine texts, thirty-four of which belong to classical Arabic poetry (Khalil meter), while the remaining fifteen texts fall under the category of prose poetry, which our poet has labelled "love outside of meter." This latter collection is a testament to a "Sinbad-Esque" journey, in which the poet took his beloved to the continents of Europe, Asia, Central America, and Africa, showcasing the most important aspects of some capitals and cities (London, Switzerland, Italy, the Netherlands, France, Germany, Bali, Mexico, Egypt, Dubai, Hong Kong, Belgium, and Singapore). Regarding the poetic meters that the poet adhered to, the Rajaz meter was dominant, in its complete and truncated forms (19 poems), and the Ramal meter, in its complete and truncated forms, accounted for six poems, as did the Kamil meter, in its complete and truncated forms (6 poems), while there was one poem each for the Tawil meter, the Khabab meter, and the Wafir meter.
As we delve into the collection, deconstructing and analysing it, we begin by examining its poetic style. We then move on to the themes and letters whose poles are the beloved and the poet—indeed, they are the two sides of the amorous equation that permeates the entire collection, from beginning to end. The beloved holds a striking predominance, occupying the most expansive space within the poems, both those written in meter and those written outside of it. It's worth noting the absence of the beloved's voice; instead, she is represented by the "third-person pronoun," meaning she only appears through the poet's voice and reflected in his mirror.
Based on this, we will explore two fundamental issues: the poet's vision of himself and his voice, and his vision of his beloved. These two visions complement each other, each acting as cause and effect, directly and inversely. Furthermore, there are other issues that we cannot overlook, as our study will not be complete without addressing them. We must pay special attention to our poet's poem "Leaves of Confession," one of his early works, for it possesses such profound meaning that it borders on philosophy!
Since style represents the other facet of the creative process, the discourse of style in this collection will occupy the space it deserves.
A- On the Poetic Style of the Collection
Regarding poetic style, the entire collection belongs to the genre of love poetry. The texts oscillate between explicit urban love poetry and chaste, platonic love poetry, sometimes overlapping between these two styles within a single poem. What reinforces the platonic tendency in the collection are the themes and stances characteristic of the platonic poets known in Arabic literature, such as suffering, hardship, complaint, supplication, and grievance towards the beloved, etc. If we were to define the overall poetic style of the collection, it would contain some elegiac imagery and some love-themed verses, such that it offers the woman, as a body, a description steeped in a refined, sensual materialism!
Our poet could have spared us the trouble of defining his collection's poetic style by openly declaring, in the opening poem, "I Love You": "My sweet, this is me / I live by verses of love poetry." As we arrest our poet on charges of eroticism, his story with lips and breasts unfolds through numerous situations, a theme that no love poet throughout history has escaped. Here are some of the threads of this accusation that bring us the definitive answer: "I kissed her until my beloved was quenched / I hid a thousand kisses in her bosom / The nights without her are endless / The sweetest nights I lived were near her." Poem: (Yes, I Love Her).
"I loved kissing the red lips, / Will I extinguish a flame you ignited? / Will I end a feverish night / In which I tamed the breast, I set the mouth ablaze / Above the dark breasts I hung my ego / I planted a thousand kisses upon the chest." Poem: (Oh, My Sweet). Thus, this story with the beloved unfolds in chapters, teeming with crimson nights. The poet has placed the nectar of her lips and breasts before his own, drinking deeply from this nectar, yet never quenching his thirst!
"How many kisses have I entrusted to a lip?" (Poem: Your Lips) ... "Kiss me and embrace me / I am not content with my years / Then give me, my life / A kiss that erases my moans / Whenever I bring my lips near... kiss me." (Poem: Kiss Me)
It is as if our poet is in a state of "ancient!" hunger for kisses and for the caress of breasts, imploring his beloved whenever he brings his lips near hers! Elsewhere, we read: "Your sweet saliva has become a blessing / My thirsty lips, give me more of your kiss" (from the poem "Dance Me"). Doesn't the expression "my kiss" suggest that the act of kissing has become an addiction for our poet?
Furthermore, we find the same sentiment: "I kissed her, and my heart told my story" (from the poem "Rewa"). "And I want to kiss cheeks" (from the poem "My Beloved"). And in describing a kiss as tasting like quince, but without bitterness: "By God, it was a kiss / Like the flavour of quince / Quick as a wink / As if it were my future / I am kissing a flower / Sweeter than a carnation" (from the poem "You Are Mine"). In a jealous and protective mood, fearing that his beloved's lips might fall prey to some greedy lover who would harm them, we read: "...I fear for her, my sweet one / From the recklessness of a neglected lip / If it were to ravage her one night / Its teeth like a sickle." (Poem: You Are Mine)
B- The Poet's Self-Vision
Through a comprehensive survey of all the poems in the collection, the poet emerges, with all his intellectual and psychological makeup, his expectations, and his suffering, especially the pain of love. He is:
That lover who suffers, whose eyes betray him, and who doesn't know to whom to turn for help: "The eye reveals its love / Tell me, to whom should I seek refuge!" (Poem: Enslaved) Perhaps this plea will find a response from his beloved, who will become the guardian of his heart: "My heart is sick with love / Be its guardian" (Poem: O Maiden).
He is the one who suffers the ordeal of rejection, his worries are boundless, and the doors of his beloved are closed to him: "I endured a rejection whose chapters are countless / And I concealed a sorrow that my bags could not contain" (Poem: Peace Be Upon Her).
From this perspective, he saw himself defeated, raising his white flag before the magic of her eyes: "Magic adorns her eyelids / And I am defeated or defenceless" (Poem: Abla).
He is the pleading lover, imploring his beloved to shelter him, so that he may be dependent upon her: "Hide me beneath your shawl / And make me one of your children," and since she is his only passion, he is hungry for her bounty: "Feed me from your harvest." In this way, he promotes himself, for he is, in his love for her, and according to his claim, different from others: “Believe me, you will not find/ a love like mine among your men/ Bring me close to you openly/ Seat me on your left.” See, the poem: (Hide Me).
What is striking is that our lovelorn poet does not aspire to sit to his beloved's right, but rather accepts the left side, despite the connotations this side carries, which diminish his stature!
...And as he reaches the pinnacle of his pleas for his beloved, he implores her to take pity on him and rescue him from his madness, indeed, from the deadly loneliness into which he is sinking: "Save me from my madness / From my screams, from my moans / Every time you show resistance / You cast me out of my clothes / Have mercy on my heart and mind / My mind has flown away, my eyes / I walk like a madman / Dragging my suspicions behind me" (from the poem "Madness").
...And because love is his cherished kingdom, and he wishes to remain enthroned upon it, our poet delves into the art of supplication, seeing the beloved's compassion as a great treasure. And if she were to rescue him from the pangs of love, it would guarantee a transformation for the better: “...Love is my kingdom...and your affection is my wealth/ Extend your hands and fulfil my hopes/Say: I love you, change my circumstances/Shine like a sun weary from nights/The time has come for it to meet my crescent moon.” (Poem: Answer Me).
Thus, he calls upon her sun to meet his crescent moon, unaware that “It is not for the sun to overtake the moon, nor does the night outpace the day. Each float in an orbit.” (Holy Quran). Let it be a theatre of the absurd, and let our poet be “Waiting for Godot,” like Samuel Beckett, the famous Irish writer.
Continuing from the above, and in the realm of begging for love, he calls upon his beloved to publicly acknowledge him as his lover! This occurred while they were in Germany...but alas, as the popular saying goes: “Don’t call out, there’s no one there!” (Poem: A Stranger in Germany).
This is what he embodied in his words: "Answer me if I call: Come / For the rose always responds to my state / I have broken all chains with my actions / Except for my heart, my shackles remain." (Poem: "Answer Me"). Perhaps the prison of the heart is the most oppressive and formidable of prisons!
He is the one who complains of the beloved's hard heart, lamenting her indifference, for she pays him no heed. Faced with this deliberate disregard, he openly rebels, declaring that he will ultimately triumph: "But your heart is cold / No pulse in it, no sparkle / You Walk beside me like a rock / Your heart is made of paper / And I, poor in love / Am consumed by the fire of insomnia / No, I will not accept defeat / I will win this race." (Poem: "Race"). Thus, he will prevail, as long as he clings to her love, unyielding: "If you say no, or a thousand times no / I will not waver from our love" (Poem: A Thousand No's).
For the beloved (Abla) has become his past, present, and future, embodying the game of his time, three-dimensional. He is in love with her purity, and she remains the mistress of his eternal love, to the point that he has forgotten his first love: "Yesterday I loved her purity / And today I see her as my best future / She is the mistress of enduring love / She made me forget what first love was" (Poem: Abla).
Perhaps the characteristic of being held captive, our poet's captivity to his beloved, has a wide scope, manifesting itself in many sections of the collection, and this captivity becomes a form of enslavement!
He is a prisoner of his beloved, regardless of changing circumstances: "Whatever happens, my sweet / You are the only love" (Poem: Enslaved). He is a prisoner of her love, placing himself at her disposal whenever she desires. He sees his shackles as shackles of gold: "This is me, my shackles are gold / I surrendered the shackles to you, so hold me captive." (Poem: Your Lips) ... It is the ultimate submission and surrender!
It is as if our poet is echoing what Shawqi, the Prince of Poets, said: "My master and my soul are in his hand / He has lost them, may his hand be safe."
All that remains is for our poet to declare it explicitly, leaving no room for interpretation: love is his master, and he is enslaved by it, and by extension, by his beloved: "Love is my master / But I am enslaved." (Poem: Enslaved)
Despite the oppression and enslavement our poet endured, his hope remained pinned on his beloved. He yearned for her care, for her to play with him, dance with him, and wipe away his tears, as if he were a small child longing for a hug! Thus, he implores her to be his guiding light in his darkest night:
"Dance with me to wipe away my tears / The candles have melted, be my candle / Oh, my life, and embrace my tender waist." But that is not enough for him; he seeks her gaze and her tenderness, reaching a state of blissful madness: "Gaze at my face, become joy / That steals away sighs, heals my anguish / Play music for me... play my melody / Drive me mad" (from the poem "Drive Me Mad").
Finding himself at a crossroads, our poet is torn by a dilemma: should he continue in the frivolity and folly of love, or heed the call of reason and return to his senses? "My heart begs me to play / And reason calls to me: Be reasonable." (Poem: 'Abla)
But how can he persist in this folly when insomnia torments him, preventing him from closing his eyes, and his nights grow long, like those of all lovers? "I endure the insomnia of lovers / And suffer from an even longer night." (Poem: 'Abla)
After all this, having ignored the call of reason, he loses his mind and senses, and his love fails miserably: "I lost my senses and reason in my pursuit of her / But the horses of my trials did not run as usual." (Poem: 'Peace Be Upon Her) C. The Beloved Through the Poet's Lens and in His Mirror!
It is the nature of all lovers to see their beloved, male or female, through a biased, subjective lens. This lens often tends to exaggerate their worth and elevate their status, overlooking any flaws they may have, and justifying their actions and behaviours. For love, besides being the father of wonders, can also afflict both sight and insight with a degree of distortion or blindness!
Based on this subjective perspective, and despite the suffering endured by our poet—which we have already discussed—he begins to elevate his beloved, exaggerating her physical and spiritual beauty, and to see her through his lens as follows:
She is "the sweetest of all," "not even the moon can rival her in beauty / And the sun, I assure you, would be ashamed." (Poem: 'Abla) Rather, she is "the full moon that shone in the poet's April, and a rose that adorns the cheeks"... She is the jewel, a radiant face. See: (You Are the Beloved).
She is a star, indeed, our poet's star, "for her sake was the light." Her eyes are a deadly spear, and from her lips comes healing for lovers: "She pierced my chest with her spear / And the spear is a deadly glance / And in her lips are the cures." Poem: (My Star) ... And elsewhere, regarding her murderous eyes, they perpetrate mass murder, a massacre! "Read my eyes, do not fear / I have hidden the massacre within them." Poem: (Antara).
On the cherry of lips, "I see a kind of cherry" (poem: Your Lips), so speak without restraint, for they are a blazing inferno! "I loved kissing the red lips, will I/ extinguish a flame you ignited?" (poem: My Sweet One).
And since she is "a woman with captivating beauty on her cheeks" (poem: My Sweet One), the poet wanted to capture the dawn upon these cheeks! (poem: Peace Be Upon Her).
To further describe these cheeks, they are an iris of beauty, where all the colours of fruit intersect, with deep red predominating: "All the fruits fell upon her cheeks / What is the fault if not for the peach ripening on the cheek?" (poem: Narration).
The beloved's dark complexion and charm elevated her to a level of beauty beyond compare: "Dark complexion and charm, beautiful as madness" (poem: Peace Be Upon Her). She is "Arab of bygone glories," her name not found on any ticket, not embraced by any letter, nor crafted by any poet. She lies beyond the familiar and common alphabet, defying spelling and naming!
She is the one whose smile was tinged with twilight, whose beauty was forged by gold, so that books could not enumerate her attributes! Indeed, she is "all of life and the beginning of time," as the poem "A Thousand No's" states.
Regarding her bamboo-like form, which could not bend, she is "...like the poplar in its loftiness," or like an ear of wheat untouched by the wind, remaining perfectly upright, as the poem "Rewa" states. In a critique of her allure, our poet equates her with Eve, the mother of humanity, who expelled Adam from Paradise. He implores her to return him—here referring to himself—to the Garden of Bliss: "I ate all the fruits in Paradise / If you are Eve... return me, Adam" (from the poem "My Sweetheart").
He transforms the sweat dripping from her brow into a revival of lovers' blossoms after their withering: "O daughter of the East / O granddaughter of poetry and sleepless nights / Holland will preserve the beads of sweat / dripping from you / to revive the flowers of lovers / during the hours of drought" (from "Amsterdam Cycles").
This is a clear indication that Holland (with its capital Amsterdam) is undeniably the land of flowers! She is the one celebrated by both nature, both printed and man-made, for in her presence, they emerge from the inanimate world into the living: "The Swiss tiles / nailed their colours to the rooftops / and craned to see you / The Alps shed their snowy cloaks / and bowed to catch your breath / The famous Longines watches / set the time of your arrival / as the year sets its seasons" (Poem: "The Tiles of the Alps").
He sees her as a queen, and crowns her over the land of fog (Britain): "Your shoes, inlaid with Sydney roses / will conquer an empire no man's son has ever conquered" (Poem: "Love in London"). Thus, he bestows upon his beloved some of the "miracles" and wonders that make the hands of Big Ben dance, bringing them back to life... but on the condition that she turns to our poet, exclaiming: "I love you!" Not all of our poet's days with his beloved were paved with roses and kisses. There was rejection and a lack of intimacy—like that endured by all lovers. He accused her of betrayal and threatened to sever their relationship. But alas, he had no power over his heart: "If my heart were in my hand / I would throw it into the hearth / So that the era of passion would end / The era of black hell / But she is treacherous / She stabbed my only love / By God, I am weary / Cease your harm and vanish." However, all these threats proved futile, for he could not escape her love: "And my heart cries out loudly / Come, possess and enslave me." (Poem: "Treacherous").
Perhaps one of the rare "positive" situations, a paradoxical case, indeed, outside the usual context, is the beloved's affection for the poet, expressing her infatuation with him to the point of kneeling before him and taking him as her master! "You are the most wonderful beloved / And I am consumed by love for you / Arrogant, yet / I kneel before your throne / I want you, my master / Like a fragrant scent / For love has wounded my heart / And my vision is shattered / But your voice is drowned / In its silence, it offers no solace / I loved in you a masculinity / I never thought it would be coquettish / Take me to the embrace of bliss / It is our right to revel / I come to you like a radiant dream / What is the secret that you do not seek..." Poem: (You Are the Beloved).
And the question remains: Can this poem—being outside the context we are accustomed to—override (in the language of religious scholars), that is, can it nullify or negate the effects of all the other poems in which the poet embodies his suffering, or is it true that "one swallow does not make a spring"?
D- ...And other significant points! Leaving aside the debate about love/woman, which we have clearly discerned through the poet's own vision and his approach to his beloved as reflected in the mirror of his own being, we will now examine some of the themes that permeate the collection, focusing on the most prominent, foremost among them:
The poet's concern with the accelerating march of time and the anxieties that overwhelm him as he approaches seventy. He dedicates a poem to this, lamenting his current state of melancholy and physical weakness: "If seventy calls me soon / I will end my bitter, gloomy life / I have become an old man, my cane is long / And my steps have become a cross from my weight." (Poem: Seventy).
Thus laments our poet, as the passing years turn their backs on him, and Gray hair invades his head, tolling the bell of a life drawing to a close: "It is a shame that my years should be my enemy / It is a shame that my hair should see Gray." Because of this new situation, which pains him, boredom begins to overwhelm him, and loneliness consumes him, leaving him isolated in this world: "I live my life weary of my condition / A stranger who lived in a strange world."
There is a matter that touches the very core of his emotions, embodied in his poetic spirit, and it is the enduring dynamism that sustains him through time, providing him with the weapon of words—and how powerful a weapon words are for those who have lost all other elements of strength! From here, amidst his multifaceted suffering, he began to boast of his power of words, presenting his "credentials" to his beloved, an ambassador of poetic language, so that she might recognize his true self!: "Do you know that I/ displayed all my artistry/ so that you might admire a poet/ who is not great and rich/ This is me, my sweet/ perfumed with iris/ with poetry I adorned the horizon/ I tamed all tongues" Poem: (A Thousand No's). Regarding the East, lagging behind the times, imprisoned in the cage of servitude, fearing the rising sun of truth and the air of freedom, and drowning in its mystical and mythical thinking, seeing in woman only her sexual aspect, neglecting all other human qualities and faculties within her, as the mother of humanity and the one who moves the world with her left hand, our poet, with a penetrating eye, was able to reflect this dark "Eastern" reality in his poem "Tremors of Passion":
"A wretched East, out of step with its time / Fearing passion with light and pleasure / Sex, it has decreed, is terrifying and abhorrent / Neither religion nor the Lord of fragrance approves of it / Yet in secret it gains power over / A woman it bought to inflict pain upon / Mirrors tell a tale of its obscenity / That would shame doors and windows / ... All people meet their friends / And our East remains a sorcerer!" E- A Station of Early Creativity Outside the Australian Path!
"Confessional Notes"... This is one of his earliest poems, written before he had even reached adulthood. Before his departure for Australia, he composed it at the age of sixteen, and it was considered legitimate poetry! As much as this eloquent poem was characterized by its spontaneity, it foreshadowed that the days of Magdalia would bring us a poet destined for greatness, and what a greatness it would be!
Undoubtedly, what compels us to this description, both of the poem and the poet, is that the poem embodies mystical dimensions and philosophical reflections, destined to develop and lead its author down the path of philosophical literature! Here are some of these mystical and philosophical inclinations in our young poet:
In his transition from his "mirage-like" state to the world of sensory, material reality—that is, to a completed form—as he observes his rebirth, can we not read in this transformation or embodiment what philosophers say about the formation of things as they move from a state of "primordial matter" to a state of actual, material formation?: "...I was like a mirage/like an illusion/and now I have become reality/I have become a human being who feels/compasses and loves." And let us add, is not love at the origin of creation—as our poet touched upon in one of his poems—according to the Greek philosophers, such that it was from the love of atoms for one another that This universe explodes (Big Bang).
Furthermore, according to the Sufis, and indeed according to their master Jalal al-Din Rumi, who was asked about love, he replied: "...the celestial bodies that revolve in their heavens are moved by the waves of love. Were it not for love, they would freeze like ice. The celestial bodies continue in their orbits because the throne of God envelops them with the reflections of love!" Elsewhere, this remarkable Sufi goes on to say: "...I will tell you how God created man from clay. He, may His glory be exalted, breathed the breath of love into the clay."
And returning to "Leaves of Confession," our poet, al-Mejdelawi, dreams each night of his beloved, whose image transports him to a realm accessible only to those who love! Is this not the realm of the Sufis, who cross from one shore to another to encounter the face of God, their means being boundless love, which they call "divine love"?
And as we move to another station, this time concerning the merging of lovers into one another, becoming one – “Everything in me is yours / You are me, my life” – do we not find ourselves facing a cornerstone of Sufi thought, where the solutions we encounter are found within the folds of Sufi poetry throughout its history?
And regarding the debate of death/life in the context of love, as our poet evokes the ordeal of Qays al-Amiri (Majnun Layla) and the legend of Romeo and Juliet, where “they all died to live by love,” and so he joins this caravan: “As for me, I am alive / And your love kills me with longing for you,” do we not, through this discourse, encounter the Sufi concept of annihilation and subsistence, where one is annihilated in the absolute so that life may be written for him anew? As our poet elevates love to its highest degree, declaring, "It is you I love, and it is you I worship," he has effectively placed her on the throne of love, associating her with the Lord of the Worlds, the Creator of this universe and the Maker of humankind, to whom believers worship alone, and in the language of Muslims, it is proclaimed: "It is You we worship, and it is You we ask for help."
In any case, this magnificent poem—as we have described it—which is older than its author in depth, maturity, and far-reaching visions, bestows additional value upon this collection, becoming one of its distinctive and defining features.
In the discourse of style/in the dialectic of meaning-structure!
Language yielded its reins to our poet, who then controlled it, molded it, and guided it to the meanings and stances he desired! Perhaps the most prominent characteristic of the poems in this collection is their fluidity. They are free from any awkwardness or harshness that might weigh down expression, so that each verse descends like a cool breeze upon the heart! Indeed, the poems have become among the most delicate and pleasing to the ear.
While our poet strove to avoid dead language, the "language of the grave," and to discard the wooden language, as the French call it, he employed a vibrant language, pulsating with life, supported by a creative imagination. The result was a torrent of unprecedented meanings and innovative imagery, a unique tapestry!
It should be noted that while our poet did address some themes and subjects previously explored by other poets, especially earlier ones, he worked to present them in a new light, in a renewed form, and even through a new "distribution," so to speak! Thus, the poet distanced himself from blind imitation, which places him among the neo-classical poets.
…In an illustration of some of the innovative meanings and images, we draw examples from various poems—and these are but a drop in the ocean, as space does not permit us to include them all—we will focus on the following:
"Will I ever finish a feverish night / In which I tamed the breast, I ignited the mouth!" Poem: (My Sweetheart) ... Through this wonderful verse, Charbel takes us to a night with his beloved, a night of passion, where he works to tame her wild, rebellious breasts with all the caresses, playful touches, and oral dialogue at his command! And on the other side of the image, he ignites his beloved's lips with the flames of his love… And so, between extinguishing a flame and kindling another, there is healing for both! It is a paradox, granted only to the likes of al-Baini, the inspired poets who listen to the genies of the Valley of Genius, whispering to them the clear verses of revelation!
Regarding the heart of the defeated/exalted poet, who "may bow down in pride" (as in the poem "My Star"), there is also a paradox, embodied in the antithesis that suggests bowing before others is somewhat humiliating, while bowing before the beloved is pure pride! This expression is similar to that of Ibn al-Rumi, who satirizes someone, saying: "...God raised him down!"
"I ate all the fruits in Paradise / If you are Eve, then return Adam." From the poem "My Sweetheart," our poet was not content with merely eating the apple, as the father of humanity did, but devoured all the fruits of Paradise, thus magnifying his sin, indeed his transgression. He then challenges our mother Eve to expel Adam from the hell of Earth, where he was cast down, and return him to the Gardens of Eternity, so that things may return to their former state! Our poet here is Adam, expelled from his beloved's Paradise! Thus, the poet arrives at an innovative meaning, inspired by one of the milestones in humanity's long and storied journey, a journey that even parallels the legend of the vinegar!
"Read my eyes, do not fear / I have hidden the massacre within them." From the poem "Antara." Notice the imperative form of "read," meaning "discover" or something similar, to reveal the crime committed by the beloved, a crime foretold by the language of the eyes—and what a language the eyes are!
And so, to the beauty of expression... Where the poet is assigned the role of an investigating judge (or interrogator), we are struck by the density of meaning, where three scenes are contained within a few words (the rhetorical dimension): the poet as he attempts to read what the beloved's eyes conceal; the poet's hesitation as he explores the eyes, only to be encouraged by the beloved; the massacre in all its horror, the features of which this beloved strives to hide!
Since we will limit ourselves, for analysis and deconstruction, to these examples as representative samples, we refer to some meanings and images for further consideration, according to the approach we have adopted:
"Her lips are a temple of goddesses / And my mouth trembles if it kisses" (poem: 'Abla).
"This is me, my shackles are gold / I surrendered the shackles to you, so imprison me" (poem: Your Lips).
"If my heart were in my hand / I would throw it into the hearth" (poem: Treacherous).
"If you sleep in "My tent/ The reed will play/ And if you invade my mouth/ Gold will envelop you" (Poem: My Moon).
"The beating of my heart is a cry/ I fear the reproach of the sleepers" (Poem: O Heart).
"Your enchanting beauty has shackled them/ Nailed them to the streets like lampposts/ Forcing them to relinquish their eyes/ Which they gifted to you/ And nothing remains on their faces but glasses" (Poem: You Have Colonized Hong Kong, etc.).
And as we move to that range of poetic meters employed by our poet in the first section of the collection, the Rajaz meter—as we mentioned earlier—both in its complete and truncated forms, held sway (19 poems). It is a meter with a beautiful rhythm, capable of bearing what other poetic meters cannot, due to the repetition of its feet (mustaf'ilun six times), along with its numerous permissible variations. It has rightly been called "the donkey of poetry!"
As for the Ramal meter—in its complete form and the truncated meter—it is among the most beautiful meters of poetry, due to the beauty of its melody and the smoothness of its composition, especially the truncated form, and the beauty of its rhythm, particularly when we consider that "ramal" in Arabic means trotting, something faster than walking but slower than running. This contributes to the fluidity we have discussed, which is one of the distinctive features of the collection.
As for the complete meter, in both its full and truncated forms, it is one of the most frequently used poetic meters, being a single foot (mutafa'ilun) repeated six times, which facilitates the poet's versification process.
Moving on to a key aspect of the stylistic discourse, we are struck by the abundance of rhetorical and stylistic devices that the poet skilfully employed to enhance meaning, create vivid imagery, and employ personification, revealing a creative and imaginative imagination!
Regarding the most prominent lexical field in the collection, it lies in the poet's ability to evoke several hundred words related to love. This led us, at one point in this study, to label the collection "The Book of Love": its themes, expressions, and vocabulary. Thus, if one wishes to delve into the lexicon of love, one has no choice but to explore the treasures of this magnificent book!
And as we conclude our discussion of the debate surrounding meanings and structures—a debate in which our poet has excelled—we draw upon the insights of the researcher and literary critic Dr. Zahida Darwish Jabbour: “...Poetry is the language of vision, or the experience in which a vision is born (...) Poetic language is not merely a means of expressing clear thoughts, feelings, and visions, but rather an attempt to capture the elusive meaning that flashes like lightning, only to be swallowed up by darkness once more.” (See, “Cultural Beacons” magazine, Book Seven, November 2019, Gross Press Publishers, study entitled: Arabic Poetry and the Horizons and Limits of Criticism, p. 71).
...Thus, it becomes clear from all the evidence we have presented, and from our analysis and deconstruction of the poems in the collection, that our poet, at several junctures, managed to capture these elusive meanings. These were brilliant flashes illuminating the paths of lovers yearning to declare their love to women, in every time and place. Furthermore, regarding these elusive meanings, he seized them Our poet, with ease and grace, seems to embody the spirit of Abu al-Tayyib al-Mutanabbi, as rhymes flow to him spontaneously:
I sleep soundly, oblivious to its stray thoughts,
While others stay awake, arguing and debating over it!
...And yet, "I Love You," the anthology of love, nay, the comprehensive book of love, cannot be read casually or hastily. Rather, it is read through a ritualistic process, known only to those afflicted by love!
**
