Hatim Al Tai

Hatim Al Tai Poems

Hatim Al Tai Biography

Hatim Al-Taeei (Arabic: حاتم الطائي (also Hatemtai i.e. Hatim of the Tayy tribe), formally Hatem ibn Abdellah ibn Sa'ad at-Ta'iy (Arabic: حاتم بن عبد الله بن سعد الطائي ‎) was a famous pre-Islamic (Jahiliyyah) Arabian poet, and the father of the Sahaba Adi ibn Hatim and Safana bint Hatem. He was a Christian Arab, and belonged to the Ta'i Arabian tribe. Stories about his extreme generosity have made him an icon to Arabs up till the present day, as in the proverbial phrase "more generous than Hatem" (Arabic: أكرم من حاتم). Al-Taee lived in Ha'il (Arabian Peninsula). He was mentioned in some Hadiths by the Islamic Prophet Muhammad. He died in 578. He was buried in Toran, Ha'il . The tomb is described in the Arabian Nights. He lived in the sixth century CE. He also figures in The Arabian Nights . The celebrated Persian poet Saadi, in his Gulistan (1259 CE) writes: "Hatim Taï no longer exists but his exalted name will remain famous for virtue to eternity. Distribute the tithe of your wealth in alms; for when the husbandman lops off the exuberant branches from the vine, it produces an increase of grapes.". He is also mention in Bostan (1257 CE) of Saadi. According to legends in various books and stories, he was a famous personality in Tai (Ha'il province in the central part and of the Arabian Peninsula). He is also a well-known figure in the rest of the Middle East as well as India & Pakistan. Many books have been written about him in different countries and languages. Several movies and TV Series have been produced about his adventures. Rozat-ul-Sufa mentions that "In the eighth year after the birth of his eminence the Prophet, died Noushirwan the Just, and Hatem Tai the generous, both famous for their virtues.", around 579 CE. According to 17th-century Orientalist D'Herbelot, his tomb was located at a small village called Anwarz, in Arabia.)

The Best Poem Of Hatim Al Tai

On Avarice

How frail are riches and their joys!
Morn builds the heap which eve destroys;
Yet can they leave one sure delight—
The thought that we've employed them right.
What bliss can wealth afford to me,
When life's last solemn hour I see?—
When Mavia's sympathising sighs
Will but augment my agonies?

Can hoarded gold dispel the gloom
That death must shed around his tomb?
Or cheer the ghost which hovers there,
And fills with shrieks the desert air?
What boots it, Mavia, in the grave,
Whether I loved to waste or save?
The hand that millions now can grasp
In death no more than mine shall clasp.
Were I ambitious to behold
Increasing stores of treasured gold,
Each tribe that roves the desert knows
I might be wealthy, if I chose.

But other joys can gold impart;
Far other wishes warm my heart;—
Ne'er may I strive to swell the heap
Till want and woe have ceased to weep.
With brow unaltered I can see
The hour of wealth or poverty:
I've drunk from both the cups of Fate,
Nor this could sink, nor that elate.

With fortune blest, I ne'er was found
To look with scorn on those around;
Nor for the loss of paltry ore,
Shall Hatem seem to Hatem poor.

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