On Lady Bilquiss Mashqor Poem by Mohammad Noaman Al-Hakimi

On Lady Bilquis’s Mashqor

By Mohammad Noaman Al-Hakimi


When the nights commit themselves
To flame,
Into this great unnamed house,
This house with no visible address,
Rooms that never answer your hellos,
You may retire, assured of its silence
Until the Horse appears, as from a dream
Belonging to someone else,
perhaps many others.

He carries her sprig,
The Lady Bilquis’s mashqor
Down from great Saber,
The cold mountain
That kept the Seven Sleepers lovely for centuries,
Sheltered from the heat of the sun.

Away in the West,
Books are written
Their pages flutter like dancing scorpions,
We sigh,
Content that the music
Is always here,
bright between the words
Even the words never spoken.

Only a few know this music,
Obey
The final command
to play its song
Opening everything
to the summer clouds
Selling their last flower
For one quicksilver note.

Great men and dark caves are twins
Here in this slow desert
They have their satisfactory potion.
The queen of Sheba bestows her gold,
Incense of the throne, and her love
Freely on the dwellers.
They enjoy the glory that once was
And find her scent
As it is.*


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*As it is: said by Bilquis (the queen of Sheba) when answering the Prophet in the Holy Quran. Mashqor: the basil, sacred to the ancients.