The Story Of Antar And Abla Poem by Mohammad Yousef

By Mohammad A. Yousef

In the heart of the desert,
where the sun bleeds into the horizon,
and the stars whisper secrets to the night,
there lived a warrior,
Antar, son of the black maid,
a man forged in the fires of passion and pride,
his skin kissed by the sun,
his heart a thunderstorm of longing,
for in the depths of his soul,
lay Abla,
the beauty crowned with moonlight,
the rose that bloomed in the barren sands.

Their love,
a tapestry woven with threads of fate,
each strand shimmering with stories untold,
each knot a promise,
each color a dream,
the world around them a canvas,
where the brush of destiny painted their hearts,
yet shadows loomed—
tribes divided by honor,
blood feuds echoing through the canyons of time.

Abla, with eyes like emeralds,
held the strength of a thousand suns,
her laughter a melody that danced on the wind,
yet she was bound by the chains of her lineage,
her heart torn between loyalty and desire,
while Antar, fierce as the lion,
roamed the dunes,
his spirit a tempest,
fighting battles not just of steel,
but of the heart.

In the stillness of the night,
when the moon bathed the sands in silver,
they would steal away,
two souls entwined under the watchful stars,
their whispers mingling with the desert breeze,
each word a declaration,
each breath a vow,
and in those fleeting moments,
the world melted away,
leaving only the pulse of their love.

But love is a wild stallion,
unbridled and untamed,
it gallops through the valleys of joy and sorrow,
and in the shadows,
the specter of fate lurked,
as rivalries ignited like dry brush,
and the drums of war echoed through the canyons,
pulling Antar into the storm,
calling him to defend not just a name,
but the heart that beat for Abla.

Through the chaos of battle,
where the cries of warriors pierced the air,
Antar fought like the wind,
his sword a comet slicing through the darkness,
each clash a testament to his love,
each victory a step closer to Abla,
yet with every fallen foe,
the weight of the world pressed upon him,
the price of love steepened,
as the sands of time slipped through his fingers.

And Abla, radiant and resolute,
stood at the edge of the battlefield,
her spirit a lighthouse,
guiding him home through the tempest,
her heart an unyielding fortress,
waiting for the day when the sun
would rise on their love,
and the scars of war would heal.

In the end,
it was not just the clash of swords,
but the courage to love unconditionally,
the strength to stand against the tides of fate,
that wrote their story across the stars.
For Antar and Abla,
were not merely lovers,
but legends etched in the sands of time,
their tale a timeless anthem,
a reminder that love,
in all its forms,
is the greatest battle of all.

So let their names be whispered in the winds,
let their story flow like a river through the ages,
for in the heart of the desert,
where the sun bleeds into the horizon,
their love, like an eternal flame,
still flickers in the night,
a beacon of hope,
a testament to the power of the heart,
the story of Antar and Abla,
a love that conquers all.