Figurative Imagery and Religious Discourse in Al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt

Abstract

This study examines al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt anthology as a foundational corpus wherein pre-Islamic and early Islamic Arabic poetry emerged not only as a cultural artifact but as a generative locus for theological reflection. Through a close reading of selected poems and nuanced engagement with the figurative language specifically metaphor, personification, and symbolic narrative, the research situates poetry as a mode of epistemic inquiry that articulates religious meaning alongside Qurʾānic revelation. Drawing on ʿAbd al-Qāhir al-Jurjānī’s theory of semantic structure and metaphor, in dialogue with Paul Ricoeur’s conception of metaphor as imaginative cognition, the study proposes that poetic discourse operates as a site of “imaginative theology”, i.e., a space wherein the abstract is rendered sensorially legible and metaphysical concepts are dramatized in affective and embodied terms. The analysis reveals how key Qurʾānic themes including divine will, mortality, ethical restraint are anticipated, echoed, and reconfigured through poetic imagery. Thus, al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt is not merely a literary corpus vis-à-vis Islamic scripture but also functions as an active interlocutor in the formation of early Islamic moral and theological imagination. This interdisciplinary inquiry contributes to broader discussions on the interpenetration of poetics and theology as well as on the cognitive capacities of literature to shape religious consciousness.

1. Introduction

Classical Arabic poetry is deeply intertwined with theological and philosophical themes, serving as a dynamic medium where literature and theology converge. During the Islamic era, poetry functioned as an intellectual space to engage with theological inquiries, philosophical concepts, and broader disciplines such as Sufism. By contrast, pre-Islamic poetry often echoed moral and existential concerns that Islam later emphasized upon its emergence, and they became central to Islamic teachings. This continuity does not challenge the sanctity of the Qurʾān and the Prophetic ḥadīths (i.e., reports that transmit the sayings, actions, or approvals of the Prophet Muḥammad); rather, it underscores the role of literature in shaping ethical consciousness and comprehension of religious thought.1

Al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt, a renowned anthology of pre-Islamic and early Islamic Arabic poetry, offers valuable insight into the cultural and intellectual milieu in which both the Qurʾān and Islamic thought emerged. Rich in metaphor, imagery, and moral reflection, these poems not only reflect the values and beliefs of their time period, but they also reveal the profound interaction between literature and religious ideas. Rather than being mere relics of a bygone era, al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt serves as a critical lens to examine the transformation of religious and social ideas from pre-Islamic traditions to Islamic doctrine. Thus, poetry emerges as a vehicle for moral reflection, communal identity, and theological inquiry, illuminating the shared heritage and evolving intellectual dynamics of an era that continues to shape Islamic culture and thought (Bauer 2010; Neuwirth 2019; Dmitriev 2010; Jamil 2017).

The question of the authenticity and dating of pre-Islamic poetry has long been debated. As early as the nineteenth century, Theodor Nöldeke (d. 1930) tended to trust the reliability of the transmitters and emphasized the philological and historical value of this corpus (Nöldeke 1864). Charles Lyall (d. 1920), in the introduction to his translation of al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt, likewise offered a detailed defense of the genuineness of ancient Arabic poetry (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, vol. II, pp. xi–xxviii). By contrast, David S. Margoliouth (d. 1940) cast serious doubt on the authenticity of the jāhilī corpus, stressing the unreliability of the transmitters and arguing that much of the poetry was forged or reworked after the advent of Islam (Margoliouth 1925, pp. 417–49). Later, Ṭāha Ḥusayn (d. 1973) famously advanced a similar position, contending that much of what is known today as pre-Islamic poetry was in fact composed during the early Islamic period (Ḥusayn 1998). While this longstanding debate is important, the present study proceeds from a literary-philological perspective, analyzing the poetry as it has been transmitted in the tradition, and focusing on its rhetorical and symbolic dimensions rather than on questions of historical attribution. In this regard, Mohammad Salama has convincingly shown, through a nuanced critical reading, how modern scholarship has moved beyond the radical skepticism of Ṭāha Ḥusayn and Margoliouth in the 1920s toward a broad acceptance of the corpus of pre-Islamic poetry, drawing on numerous studies to substantiate this shift (Salama 2024, pp. 54–56).

This study explores key metaphors and figurative imagery in al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt to enhance our understanding of Qurʾānic themes such as moral conduct, divine justice, and human destiny. It examines how these poetic devices contribute to the articulation of ethical and theological concepts, arising from the interaction of pre-Islamic poetic expression with the developing framework of early Islamic thought. It is situated within a broader critical interest in the intersection of literature and religion—as exemplified by Suzanne Stetkevych’s The Mute Immortals Speak (Stetkevych 1993), which interprets pre-Islamic poetry through the lens of ritual and myth and explores how poetic structures reflect symbolic worldviews embedded in pre-Islamic society, with the present study shifting the focus to figurative imagery as an intellectual tool for articulating religious and moral reflection. By proposing a reading of pre-Islamic poetry not merely as a cultural precursor to the Qurʾān but as an active discourse shaping theological and ethical consciousness, it argues for the integration of classical Arabic poetry as a critical lens in Qurʾānic studies. This approach addresses a still underexplored area highlighted by scholars such as Thomas Bauer,2 who noted the relative neglect of pre-Islamic and early Islamic poetry compared to the extensive research conducted on Jewish and Christian elements within the Qurʾān (Bauer 2010, p. 704).

By approaching pre-Islamic poetry as interpretive literature for the Qurʾān, this study challenges traditional theological scholarship that often overlooks poetic contributions. Furthermore, this study advances the concept of “literature as theology” within the context of Islamic studies, contributing to a broader interdisciplinary discourse on the role of artistic mediums in exploring religious ideas. Through a focused analysis on themes such as the inevitability of death, divine sovereignty, and morality, this study presents a nuanced understanding of how these ideas resonated across pre-Islamic and Islamic contexts. The emphasis on metaphorical imagery as a medium to embody religious ideas provide a fresh methodological approach to understanding the reciprocal engagement between the Qurʾān and its cultural milieu.

2. Religion and Poetry

In literary theory, the profound role of creative imagination and its transformative power to reshape our understanding of the “sacred” and its ramifications must be recognized. While this approach may not yield definitive answers to specific inquiries, it fosters new questions, thereby enriching our comprehension by heightening awareness of significance. This approach aligns with the idea that “there is nothing outside the text” (Jasper 2016, p. 10; Derrida 1976, p. 158) to underscore the integral relationship between language, meaning, and perception.

Both literature and theology engage in a shared endeavor of constructing knowledge through the imaginative processes of what might be termed “imaginative knowing.” In the literary realm, whether through poetry, narrative, or myth, we are immersed in a domain of imagined understanding, drawing insight from a text’s internal world as well as our own cognitive and emotional faculties. In this sense, knowledge itself is not merely discovered but imagined. Similarly, in theology, the tradition often asserts that our comprehension of the unseen, though lacking empirical substantiation, is built upon firm, imaginative foundations. While the divine itself transcends mere conceptualization, our engagement with the divine is inherently shaped by imaginative faculties, rendering the transcendent notion not just conceivable but, in some senses, tangible (Hass 2016, p. 19).

Literature operates by transporting elements from the real world into the realm of imagination, thus constructing a fictional world. This imaginative space is then reintroduced into the reality, the empirical world, albeit transformed from its original context. According to Ricoeur, this transference is essential to the process of meaning-making (Hass 2016, p. 26), where the relationship between the real and imagined is crucial to develop understanding. Similarly, theology endeavors to transcend the confines of conventional cognition by drawing us into the divine realm—an otherworldly domain that eludes our ordinary sensory experiences. Through metaphorical language, theology engages in an imaginative process that renders the transcendent perpetually attainable (ibid., p. 27).

We imagine our path to knowledge; we understand through envisioning the “beyond” as an extension of ourselves, by empathizing with the other as if they were us, employing metaphorical constructs. This is the essence of Ricoeur’s insight into language and meaning making. Thus, such interpretation is deemed indispensable for acquiring knowledge and imbuing existence with significance (ibid., p. 33).

Building on Ricoeur’s understanding of knowledge as fundamentally imaginative and metaphorical, his exploration of metaphor further illuminates the essential role of imagination in the processes of understanding and meaning making. In his seminal work The Rule of Metaphor, Ricoeur reveals the profound capacity of metaphor to bridge imagination and understanding, rendering it indispensable for both literature and theology. Metaphor, as he shows, transcends literal language, enabling us to grasp abstract and transcendent concepts by anchoring them in sensory and imaginative realms (Ricoeur 1977). This insight is particularly relevant in pre-Islamic and early Islamic Arabic poetry, where metaphor is a dynamic tool in articulating religious and existential ideas. Through metaphor, poetry transforms the intangible such as divine sovereignty, moral virtue, or the inevitability of death into vivid and relatable imagery. By engaging the imagination, poetry not only depicts religious themes but actively participates in shaping theological discourse, bridging the human and divine. This interplay of metaphor and theology positions Arabic poetry, especially collections such al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt, as a vital medium in understanding the cultural and intellectual milieu from which Islamic thought emerged (Wright 1989).

The power of literary devices extends beyond ornamentation; they enrich language with new layers of meaning that stretch beyond conventional boundaries (Wright 1989, p. 4). Literalism poses a shared challenge to both literature and theology, making it crucial to foster dialogue between the two disciplines to evade its pitfalls. Language in literature and even in scientific discourse, acts as a unique window—a lens that not only frames what is observed but also, as some argue, constructs its own reality (ibid., p. 13).

Ancient Arabic poetry often conveyed moral and religious teachings that resonate with themes found in the Qurʾān and the Prophet’s ḥadīths while also drawing inspiration from Qurʾānic verses. This overlap led some scholars such as Kirill Dmitriev, Thomas Bauer and Ali Hussein3 to underscore the significance of ancient Arabic literature in Qurʾānic studies. Dmitriev observed that the Qurʾān prioritizes conveying moral messages over narrating history, seeking to extract moral significance from familiar narratives rather than introducing entirely new concepts. Therefore, the Qurʾānic message is not developed in isolation but rather within a rich and diverse cultural context. From this perspective, texts such as ancient poetry that offer insight into the religious milieu of pre-Islamic Arabia are essential to critically examine the historical dimensions of the Qurʾān (Dmitriev 2010, p. 377).

Similarly, Thomas Bauer critiques the tendency to overlook pre-Islamic literature as a resource for Qurʾānic contextualization, attributing this oversight to flawed methodological approaches. He contends that poetry, as the primary medium of public discourse in pre-Islamic Arabia, is indispensable to gain understanding of early Arab culture (Derrida 1976, p. 351; Bauer 2010, pp. 699–732). While the Qurʾān differs significantly from poetry in various aspects and is viewed as diametrically opposed to the contemporary poetry of its time (Bauer 2010, pp. 704–5), pre and early Islamic Arabic poetry remains immensely valuable for Qurʾānic studies. Poetry collections serve as a crucial backdrop against which the Qurʾān emerged, providing essential contextual insight (Bauer 2010, p. 715).

From a philological angle, Hussein shows (on the basis of tashbīh particles) that structural and lexical convergence between the Qurʾān and the poetic corpus is strongest in the Meccan period (610–622 CE) and recedes in the Medinan period—a finding that strengthens the case for literary-rhetorical analysis as an integral tool in Qurʾānic studies (Hussein 2023, pp. 1–27).

This discussion underscores the necessity of integrating literary analysis into theological discourse, particularly when examining the historical and imaginative dimensions of sacred texts. The study of metaphor and imagination in both literature and theology not only enhances textual interpretation but also deepens our understanding of how human cognition engages with the divine. By examining pre-Islamic poetry within this framework, we gain a more nuanced appreciation of its role in shaping religious thought and expression.

3. Between Literature and Islamic Religion on Al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt4

Poetry played a pivotal role in advancing the objectives of the Islamic religion while simultaneously being shaped by its principles. Islamic teachings contributed to various poetic subjects, adopting some of these subjects while prohibiting others including the glorification of alcohol, flirtation with women, and the use of vulgar defamation (al-Jubūrī 1964, p. 47; Fahmī 1959, p. 16).

The relationship between poets and religion varied widely. Some poets maintained a tenuous connection to religion that resulted in minimal influence on their poetry. These poets mentioned religious themes in passing without delving deeply into their meaning. They often presented these themes in a simplistic manner devoid of profundity. Conversely, other poets were deeply moved by religion, with Islam significantly shaping their poetry, as evident in the profound impact it had on their hearts and the clear influence in their verses (al-Jubūrī 1964, pp. 254, 257).

Al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt is one of the earliest compilations of Arabic poetry, assembled by al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī (d. 168/785).5 Comprising works by poets from both the pre-Islamic and early Islamic periods, it serves as an invaluable resource to examine the intersection of poetry and religious transformation. Unlike other anthologies that focus primarily on pre-Islamic themes (e.g., al-Muʿallaqāt) or that were compiled in later periods (e.g., Ḥamāsat Abī Tammām), al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt uniquely captures the transitional moment when pre-Islamic poetic traditions encountered and responded to emerging Islamic thought. This distinctiveness makes it particularly suited to explore how poetry absorbed, reinterpreted, or resisted Islamic religious themes.

This study focuses on selected poems by pre-Islamic and mukhaḍram poets whose works encapsulate this pivotal transitional phase. Special attention is paid to the themes they explore and the figurative imagery they employ. By analyzing these selections, the study investigates the mutual influence between Islam and poetry, exploring how early Arabic poetry contributed to articulating concepts that were later reconfigured within Qurʾānic discourse—particularly those concerning mortality, divine decree, and communal rituals such as rain prayers.

Rather than merely viewing poetry as a mirror reflecting pre-Islamic realities, this study highlights poetry as an imaginative and expressive medium that actively participated in shaping early Islamic moral and ethical concepts. In this context, literature not only serves as a vehicle for cultural continuity but is also a dynamic site of reinterpretation and innovation.

Thus, al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt holds significant value in understanding the evolution of Islamic moral and religious discourse. It offers a critical lens to examine the theological and ethical shifts that accompanied the rise of Islam. By foregrounding the rhetorical strategies and figurative imagery deployed in the poetry, this study reveals how literature contributed to the broader processes of intellectual and spiritual transformation during one of the most formative periods in Islamic history.

4. Moral and Ethical Conduct

4.1. Good Reputation

Holding a good reputation is a significant value among the Arabs. The values placed on a good name and honor are also central to both pre-Islamic and Islamic thought. It was extolled by poets even in the pre-Islamic era and it was further emphasized by Islam upon its advent. One such example is the line attributed to the mukhaḍram poet ʿAbda ibn al-Ṭabīb (d. ca. 25/645)6 where the poet gathered his children as old age crept in and his sight faded; the poet bequeathed his legacy to them, presenting the deeds he had amassed and articulating his will. Among the virtues he extolled was noble remembrance,7 signifying a good reputation (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 146):

ذِكرٌ إذا ذُكِـــر الكِــرامُ يزِينُكـمْ       ووِراثةُ الحَسَبِ الـمُقَـدَّمِ تَنْفَعُ

“A good name, when the noble are called to mind, shall adorn you; and the inheritance of a reputation beyond that of other men is profitable.”.

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:101)

‘Abda ibn al-Ṭabīb metaphorically conveyed the significance of a good reputation by equating it to an adornment (يزِينُكـمْ) that embellishes its possessor. Adornment is inherently associated with beauty and positive attributes thus rendering the abstract notion of a good reputation tangible and visible. This portrayal suggests that a person’s reputation emanates from their deeds and actions that are tangible and realized. This value is affirmed in a ḥadīth, which states:

“ما من عبدٍ إِلَّا ولهُ صِيتٌ في السماءِ، فإنْ كان صِيتُهُ في السماءِ حَسَنًا، وُضِعَ في الأرْضِ، وإنْ كان صيتُهُ في السماءِ سيِّئًا، وُضِعَ في الأرْضِ”.

(al-Albānī 1986, 2:1000; al-Ṭabarānī 1995, 6:119)

Every servant has a reputation in heavens: if it is good, he is honored on earth, and if it is bad, he is degraded on earth.

This ḥadīth implies that every individual possesses a reputation, meaning they are known and discussed for their virtues or vices among the inhabitants of heaven, namely the angels. If their reputation, or remembrance in heaven is favorable, they will be granted goodness on earth. This is evident through the respectful treatment and honor they receive from people on earth. Conversely, if their mention among the celestial beings is unfavorable, they will be regarded with disdain and contempt by the people of earth. Thus, the harmony between the metaphor of adornment for good remembrance and the positive connotations it evokes: good treatment, honor and appreciation, is observed.

4.2. Grudge

Abandoning grudges and hatred has been regarded as a commendable trait among the Arabs since the pre-Islamic era, a quality poets took pride in, as exemplified by the words attributed to the probably pre-Islamic poet ʿAwf ibn al-Aḥwaṣ (d. unknown)8 (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 177):

وإنّـي لتـرّاكُ الضّغيـنةِ قــدْ بـدا            ثراها من المولــى فلا أستثيرُهــا

مَخــافَةَ أن تجنــي علـيَّ، وإنّمـــا             يهيـجُ كــبيراتُ الأمــورِ صغيرُهـــا

“As for me, I drop every cause of quarrel the beginning of which makes its appearance on the part of my cousin, and I am careful not to stir it up,

For fear lest its rancor should bring evil things to pass: and verily great events are stirred up by very little things.”.

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:128)

The poet conveyed his endurance of harm from the lord and his forgiveness through patience. He chose to let go of grudges without revealing them or seeking retaliation, fearing that such actions would intensify evil, turning minor offenses into major ones and transforming simple affairs into complexities.

‘Abda ibn al-Ṭabīb, counseled his children to forsake grudges due to their swift propagation. He conveyed this message through a figurative, allegorical image articulated in the second half of the verse (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 146):

ودعوا الضّغينةَ لا تكُنْ من شأنكُم       إنَّ الضّغــائنَ للقَرابَةِ تـوضَـعُ

“And leave hatred alone-let it not be a motive in your lives! Hatreds should be laid aside where kinship exists.”.

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:102)

It is worth noting that Lyall translated the verb tūḍaʿ as “should be laid aside” (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:102). However, this rendering does not fully capture the poetic context, as it implies passivity and the mere act of setting something down or disregarding it. By contrast, in this context tūḍaʿ conveys the sense of “to run swiftly” (Ibn Manzūr 2003, 9:331)—a meaning more consistent with the verse’s imagery, in which rancor is metaphorically depicted as a force spreading with speed and intensity.

The poet employs the image of a galloping (from the word waḍʿ) camel, typically associated with animal movement to depict the concept of grudges (Ibn Manzūr 2003, 9:331). By likening a grudge to a galloping camel, the poet transforms the abstract notion of animosity into a tangible, vivid, and dynamic entity. This metaphorical shift from the intangible to the tangible world enhances the potency of the message, as it draws upon the poet’s surroundings to elevate the meaning through imaginative imagery. This metaphor stimulates the reader’s imagination and enlivens their sensory perception, thereby amplifying its impact and resonance.

Metaphors establish novel linguistic connections that imbue the linguistic structure with fresh connotations, extending beyond mere lexical substitution to reshape entire semantic structures (Black 1962, pp. 41, 46, 236–37). Rather than replacing one noun with another, metaphor operates by reconfiguring clusters of words along with their associated meaning, encompassing verbs, adjectives, and adverbs (ʿAbd al-Qāhir al-Jurjānī 1984, pp. 434, 437; Abū Deeb 1979, pp. 187–88, 192).9 This transformative function is evident in the poet’s depiction of a grudge as a galloping camel, where the metaphor moves beyond a static representation of resentment to a dynamic and kinetic portrayal of animosity. By drawing upon the imagery of rapid and uncontrolled movement, the poet infuses the abstract notion of a grudge with the qualities of an untamed force—restless, accelerating, and difficult to restrain. In doing so, the metaphor not only substitutes “grudge” with “camel”, but it also imports an entire semantic field associated with motion, speed, and intensity. This reconceptualization reshapes the reader’s perception of grudges as forces that can gain momentum, spiral out of control, and demand intervention. Such an approach aligns with al-Jurjānī’s view that metaphor not only conveys meaning but actively restructures relationships between words and concepts, influencing cognitive processing and emotional engagement (ʿAbd al-Qāhir al-Jurjānī 1984, pp. 4–8, 80–92; Sweity 1997, pp. 109–11; Larkin 1995, pp. 44–71)10. Here, the poet’s metaphor not only depicts animosity but animates it, transforming an abstract sentiment into a vivid, almost corporeal entity. By engaging sensory perception and stimulating the imagination, the verse heightens both its emotional resonance and intellectual impact, reinforcing the broader thematic concern with restraint and forgiveness through a striking and dynamic metaphorical image.

Abandoning grudges is one of the virtues emphasized in Islam. While the specific terms “grudge” (ḍaghīna) or “hatred” (ḥiqd) are not explicitly mentioned in the Qurʾān, their meaning is conveyed through the word “malice” (ghill) which encompasses hatred and resentment (Ibn Manzūr 2003, 6:660). For example [Q7:43]: (وَنَزَعْنَا مَا فِي صُدُورِهِم مِّنْ غِلٍّ تَجْرِي مِن تَحْتِهِمُ الأَنْهَارُ…) (Moreover, we shall strip away any malice that is within their breast, rivers running beneath them ‘at their feet’…) (Hammad 2009, p. 256).

This principle is also evident in the ḥadīth, which reports (Ibn Māja al-Qazwīnī 1988, 2:411):

“قيل للرسول: أيّ الناس أفضل؟ قال: “كلّ مخموم القلب صدوق اللّسان”، قالوا صدوق اللّسان نعرفه. فما مخموم القلب؟ قال: “هو التّقيّ النّقيّ. لا إثم فيه ولا بَغْيَ، ولا غِلَّ ولا حسد”.

“It was said to the Messenger of Allah: ‘Which of the people is best?’ He said: ‘Everyone who is pure of heart and sincere of speech’. They said: ‘sincere of speech, we know what that is, but what is pure of heart’? He said: ‘It is (the heart) that is pious and pure, with no sin, injustice, rancor or envy in it.’”.

(Ibn Māja al-Qazwīnī 2007, 1:345)

It is important to highlight that the poetic verse, in its metaphorical form, transcends a simple call to abandon grudges. Instead, it takes on a rich metaphorical dimension with multiple layers of meaning. One notable aspect is the emphasis on the rapid spread of grudges, which can lead to severed relationships and various calamities. Additionally, the poet utilizes the verb tūḍaʿu (to run swiftly), typically associated with animals and applies it to the abstract concept of grudges. This juxtaposition of concrete and abstract elements transports the reader from the realm of reality to the realm of imagination, allowing for a deeper understanding through the interplay of connotations. The metaphorical structure encourages the reader to visualize vivid imagery and engage sensory perception by drawing from diverse environmental elements (Hass 2016, pp. 33–34).

In the same poem, the poet says (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 147):

فَضِلَتْ عداوتُـهُم على أحلامِهِمْ       وأبَتْ ضِبـابُ صـدورِهِم لا تُنـزَعُ.

“Their rancor overflows and swamps their good sense and the malice of their hearts refuses to be plucked out.”.

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:102)

In this verse, the poet employs concretization—the transformation of abstract emotions into tangible entities to heighten the intensity of enmity and its grip on human disposition. The phrase: ضِبـابُ صـدورِهِم لا تُنـزَعُ (the malice of their hearts refuses to be plucked out) shifts the conceptualization of hatred from an intangible sentiment to something corporeal, embedded, and resistant to removal. This metaphorical embodiment of hatred does not merely describe hostility but animates it, rendering it something almost physical that clings stubbornly to the heart as if it were a thorn or deeply rooted impurity.

The verb تُنـزَعُ (to be plucked out) plays a crucial role in this materialization of emotion as it evokes the physical act of extraction, implying that hatred is not merely present but rather embedded and must be forcibly uprooted. This aligns with a broader poetic tendency in pre-Islamic and early Arabic poetry, where abstract emotions such as grief, anger, or longing are often externalized into concrete, sensory-based imagery. The affective impact of this transformation is significant: the audience does not merely intellectually understand the depth of enmity but feels its oppressive weight, as if malice were an object lodged in the chest, resisting removal.

Moreover, the juxtaposition of عداوتُـهُم (their rancor) with أحلامِهِم (their good sense or wisdom) suggests a metaphorical battle between hostility and reason, where enmity dominates and overwhelms rationality. The use of فَضِلَتْ (overflows or surpasses) enhances this imagery by portraying hatred as an expanding force that overtakes patience and self-restraint. This metaphor of spreading or overflowing hostility recalls classical Arabic poetic themes, where emotions are often depicted as floods, fires, or burdens—material forces with agency and movement11.

This poetic strategy resonates with Qurʾānic language as well. The concept of removing malice from the heart is paralleled in Q7:43, which states: ﴾وَنَزَعْنَا مَا فِي صُدُورِهِم مِّنْ غِلٍّ …﴿ (We shall remove whatever rancor is in their hearts). The Qurʾānic usage similarly employs the verb وَنَزَعْنَا (to remove, extract), reinforcing the idea of hatred as a substance that can be physically extracted rather than a mere emotional state. This intertextual connection between poetry and scripture highlights a shared cultural and linguistic framework in which abstract moral and emotional conditions are often rendered through tangible, material imagery to intensify their psychological and ethical significance.

By employing such concretization, the poet achieves multiple rhetorical and affective effects. First, the reader perceives enmity not just as an emotion but as a force—a contaminant that resides in the chest and resists expulsion. Second, this materialization amplifies the emotional resonance of the verse, as the struggle against hatred is no longer metaphorical but visceral and embodied. Finally, by invoking the act of removal, the poet subtly engages with a broader ethical and religious discourse on cleansing the heart, whether through personal discipline or divine intervention.

4.3. Gossip

Poets warned against gossip as a bad habit. ʿAbda ibn al-Ṭabīb says (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, pp. 146–47):

واعْصوا الذي يُزجي النّمائم َبيْنَكُم            مُتَنَصِّحًا، ذاكَ السِّمامُ المُنْقَـــعُ

يُزجــــي عَقــــارِبَهُ ليبعَــثَ بينكم                 حَرْبًا ك م ابعثَ العُروقَ الأخدَعُ

حـــــرَّانَ لا يشفـــي غليلَ فـــؤادِهِ                 عَسَلٌ بمـاءٍ في الإناءِ مُشَعْشَــعُ

“Pay no heed to him, who spreads mischievous rumors among you under the cloke of sincere friendship: this is deadly poison.

He lets loose his scorpions that he may stir up war among you, as the cupping-vein sets the other veins at work [to supply blood].

Aflame with hate, there quenches not the burning thirst of his heart honey mingled with water in a drinking-bowl.”.

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:102)

’Abda ibn al-Ṭabīb advises his children against obeying the gossiper who masquerades as an advisor, cautioning that such individuals spread poison and sow discord among people. The poet vividly portrays the nature of gossip through three successive rhetorical images: In the first verse above, the poet employs a simile, likening the gossiper and the advice he feigns to soaked poison to emphasize its deadly nature. This eloquent simile serves as a powerful tool to underscore the peril posed by the gossiper.

In the second verse, the poet crafts a complex rhetorical image, employing a combination of simile, metaphor, and another simile. Initially, he portrays the gossiper as someone herding scorpions, symbolizing the intent to incite conflict and strife among individuals. The term عَقــــارِبه “scorpions” serves as a metaphor for evil and gossip. Subsequently, the poet likens this metaphorical representation to another simile, comparing it to veins in the body, specifically the jugular vein, which, when severed, prompts a reaction from the rest of the veins. This imagery suggests that gossip, akin to deceit, has the power to trigger a negative chain of consequences. By employing imagery associated with poison, scorpions, veins, and deceit, the poet effectively conveys the psychological, physical and social impact of gossip, creating a vivid and sensory-rich portrayal of its destructive nature.

Repetition is evident in both the diction and meaning between the first half of the two verses above: الذي يُزجي النّمائمَ بيْنَكُم (who spreads mischievous rumors among you) and يُزجـي عَقــارِبَهُ ليبعَـثَ بينكم حرْبًا (He lets loose his scorpions that he may stir up war among you). This repetition underscores the malevolent nature of the gossiper, likening their presence to that of venomous creatures. The second half of these verses reinforce this association by highlighting the destructive consequences of their actions—namely, death.

In the third verse, the gossiper is likened to a thirsty person whose thirst remains uncured (i.e., unquenched) even by honey mixed with water. This imagery vividly illustrates that their thirst for gossip and malice cannot be satiated until they achieve their goal of causing harm and destruction.

The poet’s choice of the verb يشفي (to cure; quenches) as a metaphor for addressing malice indeed frames it as a kind of ailment or affliction. This perspective aligns well with the image of honey mixed with water, as it harmoniously corresponds to the notion of healing. This deliberate selection of vocabulary not only effectively conveys the intended meaning but also fosters coherence and unity within the metaphorical imagery. By employing “to cure” as a metaphor, the poet casts malice as a kind of spiritual or moral ailment, implying that it requires healing not confrontation— an act of care rather than conflict. The metaphorical image of حـرَّانَ (thirsty) when read through this therapeutic lens, acquires fresh connotations and attributes, enriching its depth and resonance. It no longer simply denotes desire or desperation but suggests a deeper longing—perhaps even a yearning for moral clarity or relief thus intensifying the emotional and psychological layers of the gossiper’s portrayal.

The succession of metaphorical images used to depict the gossiper illustrates the power of metaphors in reshaping our perception. Metaphors operate by offering fresh perspectives, much like viewing familiar objects from a different angle. While topical metaphors may not directly involve visual elements, they function by drawing parallels between abstract concepts and concrete experiences, allowing for a deeper understanding of the subject at hand (Wright 1989, p. 13). Through this process, insight into the gossiper’s nature and motivation is gained, as the metaphorical imagery imbues the subject with new layers of meaning and associations (Black 1962, pp. 41, 46). Metaphors transcend mere word substitutions; they evoke imagery laden with connotations (Hass 2016, p. 26; Ricoeur 1977, p. 57) that prompts re-evaluation beyond the confines of scientific or positivist thinking. Knowledge is cultivated through the fusion of novel elements, disciplines, or ideas (Hass 2016, pp. 33–34).

The poet employs several successive metaphorical images to depict gossip and the gossiper, conveying the idea of harm and malevolence extending to the point of death. Gossip is strongly condemned in the Qurʾān. In Q68:10–11, it is associated with the slanderer who spreads malicious talk: ﴾وَلَا تُطِعْ كُلَّ حَلَّافٍ مَهِينٍ * هَمَّازٍ مَشَّاءٍ بِنَمِيمٍ﴿ (Yet do not yield to ‘the wishes of’ one who is habitual swearer ‘of false oaths’, a contemptible ‘person’ (10) Slanderer, who goes about everywhere with malicious talk! (11)) (Hammad 2009, pp. 1001–2). The Qurʾānic critique culminates in Q49:12, which employs one of its most visceral metaphors, comparing backbiting to the grotesque act of eating one’s dead brother’s flesh: ﴾يا أيّها الذين آمنوا اجتنبوا كثيرًا من الظّنّ إنَّ بعضَ الظّنّ إثمٌ ولا تجسّسوا ولا يَغْتَبْ بعضُكُم بعضًا أيُحِبُّ أحَدَكُم أن يأكلَ لحمَ أخيه مَيْتًا فَكَرهْتُموهُ واتّقوا اللهَ إنَّ اللهَ توَّابٌ رحيمٌ﴿ (O you who believe! Shun much suspicion, for indeed certain kinds of suspicion are sinful. Do not spy on one another, nor backbite one another. Would any of you like to eat the flesh of his dead brother? You would surely abhor it. So fear God. Indeed, God is All-Relenting, All-Merciful) (ibid., p. 903). Together, these verses powerfully convey the repulsiveness of gossip, casting it not merely as a social vice but as a morally abhorrent violation associated with death, corruption, and decay.

Stylistically, a distinction is observed between the phrase وَلَا تُطِعْ (do not yield to) in the Qurʾān andواعْصوا (Pay no heed to) in the poetic line. Despite this variance, both expressions are verbal commands, urging individuals to shun the gossiper. Moreover, the Qurʾānic expression مَشَّاءٍ بِنَمِيمٍ (Slanderer) is thematically comparable to يُزجي in the poem, as both evoke the notion of movement, thereby rendering gossip as an act in motion rather than a static vice.

Similarly, it is reiterated in the ḥadīth that “I heard the Messenger of Allāh say: ‘No one who spreads malicious gossip will enter Paradise’” (Ibn al-Hajjāj 2007, 1:191). Gossip is considered a grave sin in Islam and is unanimously forbidden according to Muslim consensus (al-DHahabī 1980, pp. 121–23).

It is worth highlighting that the poet’s utilization of poetic imagery, along with its connotations regarding the gossiper expands beyond those found in the Qurʾān and the Prophet’s ḥadīth regarding the gossiper. Perhaps the poet amplifies broader implications than those explicitly mentioned in the Qurʾān, aiding in a fuller contextual understanding of its teachings. The portrayal of the gossiper as depicted by the poet underscores their grave nature: sowing discord, breeding animosity and competition among people, and rupturing bonds of friendship and love which have potential consequences as dire as murder.

Thus, the poet’s deployment of metaphor transcends aesthetic ornamentation, functioning instead as a cognitive and ethical instrument. Through the layering of evocative images, the metaphor becomes a site of moral reflection, enabling a nuanced apprehension of gossip not merely as a social vice, but as a disruptive force that fractures communal harmony and corrodes the ethical fabric of society.

ʿAbda ibn al-Ṭabīb referenced gossip in another line within the same poem (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 147):

قـومٌ إذا دَمسَ الظّـلامُ عليـهـمُ                 حَـدجوا قنافِـذَ بالنّميمةِ تَمْزَعُ

“A people who, when the darkness enshrouds them, sally forth like hedgehogs, speeding swiftly abroad with their slanders.”.

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:102)

The poet aimed to illustrate how, as night deepened, people would prolong their wakefulness to engage in gossip and self-deception, much like hedgehogs that remain active during the night. By likening them to hedgehogs, known for their nocturnal habits and ceaseless movement, the poet crafted a compelling simile that effectively conveyed the idea. This eloquent comparison resonates with the proverbial expression: أسرى مِن أنْقَدَ,12 (swifter than a hedgehog) (al-Maydānī 1987, 2:144), emphasizing the hedgehog’s characteristic behavior.

The latter part of the poetic line introduces a complex and metaphorical image. The poet initiates it with the phrase حَـدجوا (sally forth), indicating the placement of the حِدْج (howdah), or women’s seating onto the camel (Ibn Manzūr 2003, 2:351). Then, he draws a parallel between this action and gossip, metaphorically imbuing it with new connotations to divest from its customary meaning. In likening gossip to a حِدْج (howdah) placed on a swiftly moving camel, the poet assigns qualities from a tangible, visible realm to something abstract and invisible. This metaphor symbolizes the pervasive spread of gossip among people and its detrimental effects, echoing the example of Ibn Mālik al-Aṣghar b. Hanẓala b. Mālik al-Akbar, whose corrupting influence led to the dispersal of his community [verse 17] (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 147).

The choice of the verb تَمْزَعُ (speeding swiftly abroad) to describe the pace of the camel’s movement is noteworthy, as it serves to denote both the swiftness of the camel’s gait and the rapid dissemination of gossip. This astute selection of the verb unifies the elements of imagery, bridging the connection between the nocturnal activities of the gossiper, the behavior of hedgehogs, and the camel’s speed. Furthermore, the association between the hedgehog—referred to in Arabic as المزّاع (Ibn Manzūr 2003, 8:273) and the gossiper—known in Arabic as المَزْعِيّ (ibid.) underscores the shared notion of intensity in movement, as المَزْعُ signifies briskness or fervor in walking (ibid.).

The convergence of artistic domains in depicting the swift propagation of gossip is striking, as it amalgamates connotations from both the human and animal realms. The poet deftly employs artistic talents such as imagination, sensory perception, and a range of artistic techniques to intricately mold these elements.

5. Divine Sovereignty and Human Responsibility

5.1. Mindfulness of God (Taqwā)

ʿAbda ibn al-Ṭabīb offers a counsel to his children, urging them to be mindful of God (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 146):

أُوصِيـكُـــمُ بتُــقـــى الإلهِ فـإنَّـهُ                 يُعطـي الرّغائبَ مَن يشاءُ ويمنَعُ

“I enjoin on you the fear of God: for He alone gives good things to whom soever He wills, and with holds them as He wills.”.

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:102)

This line exemplifies the fusion of ethical exhortation and figurative compression. The poet frames taqwā not merely as piety but as a rhetorical gateway to divine favor. The antithetical verbs يُعطـي (gives) and يمنَعُ (withholds) serve as binary metaphors for divine sovereignty, presenting God as both benefactor and restrainer. Underlying this structure is a cosmology in which divine volition is absolute and human desire entirely contingent.

This concept evokes Qurʾānic formulations, particularly verse [Q5: 7]: ﴾… وَاتَّقُوا اللَّهَ إِنَّ اللَّهَ عَلِيمٌ بِذَاتِ الصُّدُورِ﴿ (So fear God. Indeed, God is all-knowing of all that is ‘harbored’ within the breast of people) (Hammad 2009, p. 176). The Qurʾānic image of the inner self as a locus of hidden intention resonates with the poet’s view that authentic taqwā stems from inner sincerity rather than mere outward compliance.13 Like the Qurʾān, the poem links divine responsiveness to interior states, which the poet dramatizes through a structure of conditional granting and denial—making metaphysical judgment legible in emotional and material terms. This intertextual resonance is further deepened by the Prophet’s ḥadīths (Abū Dawūd 1994, p. 4:206):

“أوصيكم بتقوى الله، والسَّمْع والطاعة، وإنْ عبدٌ حبشيٌّ تأمَّر عليكم، فإنّه مَن يعِش منكم بعدي فسيرى اختلافًا كثيرًا…”.

“He said: “I enjoin you to fear Allāh, and to hear and obey, even if it (the leader appointed over you) be an Ethiopian slave. Whoever among you lives after I am gone will see great disputes.”

(Abū Dawūd 2008, 5:162)

The poetic imagery of giving and withholding renders the unseen tactile—anchoring abstraction in sensory registers. In doing so, the poet transforms the idea of divine agency from a theological axiom into a lived, affective experience.

The phrase: أُوصِيـكُـمُ بتُـقـى الإلهِ (I enjoin on you the fear of God) echoes directly the Prophetic ḥadīth: أوصيكم بتقوى الله (I enjoin you to fear Allāh), forging an intertextual bridge between poetic and sacred discourse. While the second part of the verse: يُعطـي الرّغائبَ مَن يشاءُ ويمنَعُ (He alone gives good things to whom so ever He wills, and with holds them as He wills)-is not a literal quotation, it mirrors the logic of divine agency present in the ḥadīth’s latter half: فسيرى اختلافًا كثيرًا. (you will see great disputes). The verb سيرى (he will see) connotes not only observation but the experiential unfolding of divine will.

It is worth noting that the poem was likely composed in the poet’s old age, when his eyesight was failing, suggesting that he embraced Islam by this time. The Islamic idioms and conceptual frameworks, reflects this transformation, both in overt references and subtle allusions.

Yet the call to be mindful of God was not exclusive to Islamic discourse. Pre-Islamic Arabic poetry also bore witness to the ethical resonance of taqwā, as seen in the verse of ʿAbdu Qays ibn Khufāf al-Burjumī (d. unknown)14 (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 384):

اللهَ فــاتَّـقِـــهِ وأَوْفِ بِــنَــذْرِهِ                 وإذا حَلَفْتَ مُمَارِيًا فتَحَــلَّلِ

“God-fear Him and fulfil thy vows to Him! And when thou swearest while hotly contending, leave an opening in thine oath for withdrawal.”.

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:322)

Here too, mindfulness of God is linked to ethical conduct—vow-keeping and restraint in speech to underscore the moral structure embedded in pre-Islamic consciousness.

The term Allāh predates Islam and can be traced across Semitic linguistic traditions to the root “Ēl” (أيل), from which a constellation of divine appellations emerged (Abū ʿAwda 1985, pp. 92, 94).15 In pre-Islamic times, the concept of God was intertwined with the worship of deities and idols (ibid. 1985, p. 94). Poetic evidence suggests that a pagan deity referred to as Allāh likely originated from the reverential title al-ilāh, which may have gradually come to be used as a proper name (Sinai 2023, p. 60).16

5.2. Inevitability of Death

Throughout the history of Arabic poetry and particularly in the pre-Islamic period poets displayed a deep consciousness of mortality and the inescapability of death. While their verses often alluded to the influence of external, sometimes obscure forces shaping human fate, they rarely articulated a clear metaphysical understanding of these powers (Abū ʿAwda 1985, p. 136). Nevertheless, the sense of life’s fragility and the certainty of death permeated their worldview and poetic expression.

Rooted in lived experience and existential reflection, this awareness was not abstract but rather intensely personal. Death occupied a central thematic position in their poetry, though its representation varied according to individual temperament and circumstance. Pre-Islamic poets frequently conjoined the notions of death and time, using terms such as دهر (fate) and زمان (time) to voice the transience of life and the unstoppable passage of days.

This intertwining of temporal and existential concerns finds articulate expression in the anthology al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt. Among its prominent voices is ʿAbda ibn al-Ṭabīb, whose verses reflect a clear philosophical engagement with death’s inevitability and time’s erosive power (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 148):

ولقدْ علِمتُ بأنَّ قصـريَ حفـرةٌ                 غبـراءُ يحملني إليها شَرْجَعُ

“Yea, in sooth I know that the end of all to me will be a grave in the dust, whither I shall be borne on a bier.”.

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:103)

In this line, the poet expresses his conviction that his ultimate abode is the grave—a dusty hollow to which he will be carried. The grave emerges here not merely as a physical location but as the symbolic terminus of all earthly striving.

Further reinforcing this theme, he writes (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 148):

إنَّ الحــوادِثَ يخْتَرِمْنَ، وإنّمــا                 عُمْـرُ الفتى في أهلِهِ مُسْتَــوْدَعُ

“In sooth the passing of the days whirls us all away, and a man’s life in the midst of his people is but a deposit, [soon to be given back].”

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:103)

Here, ʿAbda likens human life to a مُسْتَــوْدَع (a deposit), emphasizing its transience and implying its eventual reclamation by its original possessor. The metaphor is semantically rich: the term مُسْتَــوْدَع functions as an indicative quotation, a suggestive and semantically rich reference17 that deepens the poem’s contemplative charge. The resonance with Qurʾānic thought is palpable, particularly [Q21: 35]:﴾كُلُّ نَفْسٍ ذَائِقَةُ الْمَوْتِ وَنَبْلُوكُمْ بِالشَّرِّ وَالْخَيْرِ فِتْنَةً وَإِلَيْنَا تُرْجَعُونَ﴿ (Every ‘single’ soul shall taste death. For we ‘but’ test you ‘in life’ with evil and good as a trial. And it is to Us) (Hammad 2009, p. 546).18 In this context, the term mustawdaʿ encapsulates a broader theological paradigm in which life is provisional, entrusted by the divine, and destined to be returned.

Death, an inescapable reality, inevitably touches every human being. It is the final destination awaiting all living beings (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 149):

حتّـى إذا وافى الحِمـامُ لِوَقْتِهِ                 ولِكُـلِّ جَنْبٍ لا مَحـالَةَ مَصْــرَعُ

“Until when in due time his doom comes upon him— and to every man there comes an overthrow which there is no escaping.”

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:103)

Further reinforcing this theme, the mukhaḍram poet Mutammim b. Nuwayra al-Yarbūʿī (d. ca. 30 AH/650 CE), who embraced Islam and came to embody a deep sense of piety,19 (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 54):20

فلا بـدَّ من تَلَفٍ مصيبٍ فانتظِرْ     أبأرضِ قومِكَ أم بأخرى تُصْرَعِ

“There is no escape from the stroke of Doom: await it then; whether in the land of thine own people or in another thou shalt be laid low.”

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:23)

He asserts that every person must endure loss whether settled among his people or journeying elsewhere. In doing so, he reinforces the fundamental truth that every soul shall inevitably taste death. The verse implicitly resonates with Qurʾānic discourse, particularly [Q4:78]:

﴾أَيْنَمَا تَكُونُوا يُدْرِكْكُمُ الْمَوْتُ وَلَوْ كُنْتُمْ فِي بُرُوجٍ مُشَيَّدَةٍ وَإِنْ تُصِبْهُمْ حَسَنَةٌ يَقُولُوا هَذِهِ مِنْ عِنْدِ اللَّهِ وَإِنْ تُصِبْهُمْ سَيِّئَةٌ يَقُولُوا هَذِهِ مِنْ عِنْدِكَ قُلْ كُلٌّ مِنْ عِنْدِ اللَّهِ فَمَالِ هَؤُلَاءِ الْقَوْمِ لَا يَكَادُونَ يَفْقَهُونَ حَدِيثًا﴿.

(Wherever you may be, death shall overtake you ‘at the pre-ordained time’ even if you are in lofty towers. Yet if any good comes to them, they say ‘in their wavering hearts’: This is from God! But if any harm strikes them, they say: This is from you, ‘O Muhammad’! Say ‘to them’: All ‘things’ are ‘decreed’ from God. What is with these people that they can hardly understand any discourse?).

(Hammad 2009, pp. 147–48)

Mutammim concludes the poem with a poignant image of posthumous stillness (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 54):

وليأتينَّ عليكَ يــومٌ مــرَّةً       يُبكـي عليـكَ مُقَـنَّـعًـا لا تَسْمَـعُ

“And it due time shall come upon thee a day when there shall be weeping over thee, while thou liest in thy shroud and hearest not.”

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:23)

The verse captures the stark pathos of death: the cries of mourners goes unheard and the shrouded body lies silent and insensible. The image fuses physical detail with existential insight, underscoring the irrevocable rupture between the living and the dead. In its stillness, the verse confronts the reader with the brute finality of mortality—unadorned, unmediated, and absolute.

Similarly, the mukhaḍram poet Abū Dhu’ayb al-Hudhalī21 confronts the inevitability of death in his elegiac ʿayn-rhymed poem (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 422):

ولقدْ حرِصْتُ أن أدافعَ عنهمُ             فإذا المنيّةُ أقْبَلَتْ لا تُدفَعُ

وإذا المنيّةُ أنْشَبَتْ أظفارَهــا            ألْفَيْتَ كلَّ تميمةٍ لا تَنْفَـعُ

“Ah, fondly strove I to shield their bodies from every harm: but when Fate comes on, no strength avails to repel his stroke.

Yea, when he plunges his talons deep in his human prey, ah, then the amulets all are but mere idle toys.”.

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:356)

In these lines, Abū Dhu’ayb expresses his anguished attempt to protect his children from death’s grasp.22 Yet once death seizes its prey, resistance proves futile. Death is vividly personified as a ravenous beast sinking its claws into helpless victims—a metaphor that underscores its ferocity and inevitability. The image strips away illusions of agency: no amulets can halt the force of the predestined.

The use of amulets23 was widespread among pre-Islamic Arabs as a form of symbolic protection against harm. Islamic teachings, however, prohibit practices that imply reliance on powers other than God’s will, considering them as shirk (associating partners with God). While the general use of amulets is discouraged exceptions exist for those inscribed with Qurʾānic verses or prophetic supplications (دعاء), which are viewed not as independent sources of power but as expressions of submission to divine will. The poetic verse in question encapsulates this very theological tension— it underscores the futility of human attempts to avert divine decree through symbolic means such as amulets, a theme echoed in both the Qurʾān and ḥadīth. The Prophet Muḥammad explicitly addressed this issue, stating: “إنَّ الرُّقى والتَّمائمَ والتِّوَلَةَ شِركٌ” (Abū Dawūd 1994, 3:392), (I heard the Messenger of Allāh say: “ruqyah, amulets (tamā’im) and love-spells (at-tiwalah) are Shirk.”) (Abū-Dawūd 2008, 4:317).

What is intriguing about Abū Dhu’ayb’s poem is his depiction of three scenes, each culminating in death and annihilation for the protagonists, thereby underscoring the inevitability of death. The first scene is the vivid depiction of the zebra, spanning twenty verses [16–36] (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, pp. 422–25). The poet initially presents the creature in its prime, highlighting its speed, strength, and thriving existence. Yet this image of vitality is disrupted when drought compels the herd to seek water, driving it into peril. Despite its formidable attributes, the zebra ultimately succumbs to death. In a chilling crescendo, the scene concludes with a grim portrayal of the entire herd’s demise. The hunter slays the zebras one by one, ensuring that no two fall to the same arrow and none escape. Abū Dhu’ayb intensifies the depiction of the herd’s plight (ibid, p. 425).

He seeks to emphasize that even those zebras that attempted to flee met their demise, stumbling as the arrows pierced them, leaving their bodies drenched in blood akin to garments worn by the Banū Tazīd:24

يعْـثُـرَنَّ في حدّ الظُّـبـاتِ كـأنّمـا       كُـسِيَتْ برودَ بني تزيدَ الأذْرُعُ

“Their legs beneath slipped where the blood from the cruel shafts dyed deep the ground, as if clad in striped stuff from Tazīd.”

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:358)

This metaphorical simile reinforces the inevitability of their annihilation, while also lending the scene a grim visual texture that renders the herd’s fate both tragic and inescapable.

The bull scene is the second scene [verses 37–50] (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, pp. 425–27). The poet depicts a young bull gripped by fear. Its terror mounts each morning due to the presence of hunting dogs as hunts are typically launched during daylight. The night is rendered its only reprieve. It also fears low-lying areas due to potential hunters.

Across ten verses [41–50], Abū Dhu’ayb delivers a vivid and metaphorically charged account of the dog attacks (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, pp. 426–27). Eventually, the dogs overtake the bull, surrounding it and blocking its escape routes. A fierce and bloody struggle ensues: the bull uses its horns to stab the dogs and thrusts them into their bodies, staining them with blood [verse 44] (ibid, p. 426). The poet deepens the visual impact with a striking simile, likening the bull’s horns to two meat skewers—still untouched by fire, for no scent of roasted meat had yet risen from them [verse 45] (ibid.):

فكــأنَّ سفـودَّيْن لمَّـا يُـقْـتِـرا     عجِـلاً له بشِـواءِ شَـرْبٍ يُنْزَعُ

“Two spits they seem, fresh cut to skewer the feasters’ meat, drawn off before it is thoroughly cooked, as he thrusts them quick.”

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:358)

The imagery evokes a scene from a tavern, where a server presents grilled meat and wine to the patrons, swiftly removing the meat from the two skewers after it is grilled.

In this verse, the poet conjures imagery of a tavern, drawing an implicit parallel between the bull and a server who offers wine and meat to the patrons. The distinction, however, lies in the nature of what is served—while the server offers roasted meat, the bull offers raw meat. The poet likens the bull’s horns to two skewers, contrasting them with the skewers soaked in the aroma of grilled meat. The drinker symbolizes the dog while intoxicated patrons in the tavern mirror the inebriated state of the dog, which, in its agony, drinks its own blood— resembling the crimson hue of wine while staggering under the weight of its injury.

Despite its strength, the bull ultimately meets its demise when pierced by the hunter’s arrow, collapsing to the ground with a resounding thud. Abū Dhu’ayb likened its fall to that of a dying فينيــق (a majestic camel stallion) (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 427):

فكَبا كمـا يكبـو فينيــقٌ تارِزٌ     بالخبـتِ إلا أنّـه هو أبـرَعُ

“Headlong he crashed, as a camel-stallion falls outworn in the hollow ground; but the bull was fairer and goodlier far.”

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:358)

The comparison evokes the sheer force and finality of the bull’s collapse. When the fīnīq meets its sudden end, it collapses with a loud noise, much like the bull whom upon being struck by the arrow on both sides, abruptly falls with force. However, the bull’s fall is rendered even more dramatic. The image accentuates the sonic violence of the moment, transforming the act of dying into an auditory as well as visual event. Thus, even this formidable bull, which successfully repelled the hunting dogs, could not escape the fatal strike. Abū Dhu’ayb’s portrayal reinforces a recurring theme in the poem: the inescapability of death, regardless of strength, resilience, or resistance.

The last scene of the two warring knights [verses 51–65] (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, pp. 427–29) once again underscores the inevitability of death. The poet portrays two warriors who, despite their armor and helmets, fall victim to the relentless onslaught of time’s trials. He describes the swiftness and fierceness of their horse and weaponry, conjuring a full vision of martial readiness. Yet, none of these defenses can forestall the advance of death.

In the fierce and brutal conflict between the two knights, each relentlessly seeks the other’s life with piercing thrusts, until both bodies lie mutilated—resembling torn tattered leather garments, ravaged by the violence of battle (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 429):

فتخــالسَــا نـفسيهـمـا بـنــوافِــذ     كــنوافِذِ العُـبُـطِ التـــي لا تُـرْقَــعُ

وكـلاهما قد عاشَ عيشةَ ماجـدٍ     وجنى العَــلاءَ، لو أنَّ شيئًا ينفــعُ

“Each, guileful, wrested the other’s life with his deadly thrusts, as a wanton slashes a precious mantle beyond repair.

Each man had lived in the brightest fame-yea, each had won in his world the loftiest place, if aught could keep Death away.”

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:359)

The poet likens their bodies to torn garments, once mighty warriors now reduced to lifeless corpses. He then alluded to their past lives which were marked by glory, valor, and an unrelenting pursuit of honor and prestige, all rendered meaningless before the finality of death’s decree.

In these three scenes, the poet appears to find a form of existential solace: they collectively affirm that might and strength are ultimately futile in the face of death’s overwhelming power. Seamlessly interwoven into the poem’s broader structure, these scenes maintain both narrative cohesion and thematic unity, powerfully reinforcing the central theme of the poem—the inevitability of death.

These scenes are rich in figurative language, replete with similes, metaphors, and personification. These devices activate the reader’s imagination, guiding them through a sequence of vivid, layered images embedded in each scene (Hass 2016, p. 26; Ricoeur 1977, p. 57). By weaving together imagination, embodiment, and anthropomorphism, the poet not only animates the narrative but also advances the poem’s central theme with remarkable rhetorical force.

Notably, each of the three scenes is introduced by a recurring refrain placed at the beginning of the verse: والدّهر لا يبقى على حَدثانِه(“And time does not remain as it is”) (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, pp. 422, 425, 427).25 Structurally, this opening refrain recalls the closing-refrain pattern of Sūrat al-Shuʿarā’ (Q26:8–9, 67–68, 103–104, 121–122, 139–140, 158–159, 174–175, 190–191), where each prophetic pericope concludes with the two-verse cadence: ﴾إِنَّ فِى ذَٰلِكَ لآيةً وَمَا كَانَ أَكْثَرُهُم مُّؤْمِنِينَ؛ وإنَّ ربَّكَ لهو العزيزُ الرّحيمُ﴿. Functionally, this Qurʾānic refrain punctuates and thematically anchors the narrative units by pairing divine might with mercy; by contrast, Abū Dhu’ayb’s refrain operates anaphorically to frame each scene, universalizing discrete episodes into a single meditation on Time’s sovereignty and steering the audience away from panic toward patient resignation.

In Abū Dhu’ayb’s refrain, Time emerges as an omnipotent force—ineluctable and unchallenged—that ultimately brings about death. Its reach extends to all: the zebra, the bull, and the two knights—each succumbs to its decree, regardless of strength or resistance. Through this refrain, the poet gestures toward a broader insight: that those who suffer loss, such as himself mourning the death of his five sons, must confront fate with patient resignation. Against the ceaseless advance of time, panic is futile and only acceptance remains. This idea is foreshadowed in the poem’s very first line (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 422):

أمِــنَ المنــونِ ورَيْبه تتوجَّـعُ     والدّهرُ ليس بمعتبٍ مَن يجزعُ

“Is thy heart distrest at the spite of Fate and the stroke of Doom? Nay, fortune pays no heed to him who bemoans his lot.”

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:356)

The motif of رَيْب الدّهر (the uncertainty and treachery of Time) is a pervasive theme in pre-Islamic Arabic poetry which reflects existential anxieties and a deep awareness of fate’s instability (al-Ṣā’igh 1995, 179, 133–76). Arab poets often articulate their subjection to the calamities of time through the expression أصابَني الدّهر (Time has befallen me),26 signifying that they have been struck by the blows of fate. Time is also personified as منون—a term synonymous with death (al-Ṣā’igh 1995, p. 166), since death is ultimately conceived as the culmination of time’s passage and its relentless effects.

In pre-Islamic discourse, Time was often invoked as the agent of death. However, Islamic belief explicitly prohibits cursing time because it is not responsible for determining people’s destinies. In Islamic theology, it is God who holds ultimate authority over fate and not time (Böwering 1997, pp. 57–58). This perspective is echoed in the [Q45: 24]: ﴾وَقَالُوا مَا هِيَ إِلَّا حَيَاتُنَا الدُّنْيَا نَمُوتُ وَنَحْيَا وَمَا يُهْلِكُنَا إِلَّا الدَّهْرُ وَمَا لَهُم بِذَٰلِكَ مِنْ عِلْمٍ إِنْ هُمْ إِلَّا يَظُنُّونَ﴿, (Moreover, they ‘who reject resurrection’ have said: There is nothing but our life in this world: we die ‘once’. And we live ‘once’. Therefore, nothing destroys us but ‘the passage of’ time) (Hammad 2009, p. 872).27 Likewise, in another verse, the disbelievers say [Q52: 30]: ﴾أَمْ يَقُولُونَ شَاعِرٌ نَّتَرَبَّصُ بِهِ رَيْبَ الْمَنُون﴿. (He is ‘but’ a poet, for whom we ‘anxiously await the adversity of ‘a sudden ill’ fate) (ibid., p. 921). These verses reaffirm that adversity and death are not caused by time itself but are part of the divine decree.

The verses discuss the polytheists’ assertion that the Messenger Muḥammad is merely a poet and their intention to wait for his demise—as time, in their view, inevitably consumes all men, including poets. The implication is clear: they place their trust in time as an agent of destruction, rather than recognizing the divine will behind human fate.

In sharp contrast, Islamic belief forbids cursing time, as Allah identifies Himself with time in a well-known ḥadīth (al-Qushayrī 2001, 886):

.“قال الله تعالى: يؤذيني ابن آدم: يسبُّ الدهر، وأنا الدهر أقلب الليل والنهار. يسبُّ ابن آدم الدّهر وأنا الدّهر، بيدي اللّيل والنّهار”

“Allāh, Glorified and Exalted is He, says: The son of Adam offends Me. He inveighs against time, but I am time, I alternate the night and day”

(Ibn al-Hajjāj 2007, 7:104)

The same idea is also conveyed in another ḥadīth, where the Prophet said: “لا تسبُّوا الدّهر، فإنَّ الله هو الدّهر” (al-Qushayrī 2001, p. 886) (Do not curse time, for Allah is time) (Ibn al-Hajjāj 2007, 7:105).28

These statements affirm that time is not an autonomous force but a manifestation of divine will.

This tension between pre-Islamic fatalism and Islamic theocentrism illustrates how early Islamic discourse responds to, and reorients, inherited cultural conceptions—replacing the notion of blind temporal determinism with a vision of divine agency.

The concept of the inevitability of death, deeply rooted in pre-Islamic thought was integrated into Islamic theology and reaffirmed in its sacred texts. However, Islam prohibits cursing time, emphasizing instead that life and death lie solely within the domain of divine authority.

In his poem, Abū Dhuʿayb eloquently articulates a profound sense of surrender and helplessness through vivid, evocative imagery, portraying the human condition as one of inevitable defeat before the forces of time and death. This theme echoes earlier depictions of death as a predatory animal with its menacing claws, reinforcing the inevitability of death and the futility of resisting it. Through these layered metaphors, Abū Dhuʿayb lays bare the absurdity of worldly striving and the illusion of human power and control. 29

The interplay of textual structure and conceptual depth in Abū Dhuʿayb’s poem is remarkable, as it seamlessly fuses stylistic and intellectual dimensions into a coherent whole. This synergy is evident in the consistency between poem’s formal and rhetorical features and its thematic and conceptual framework—each reinforcing the other. Minor textual units, such as metaphorical images, play a central role in constructing its overall structure. Far from serving as mere linguistic substitutions, these metaphors infuse the text with layered meanings, activate connotative fields, and engage the reader’s imagination (Hass 2016, p. 26; Ricoeur 1977, p. 57). Metaphor, in particular, stimulates the recipient’s cognitive faculties, encouraging them to contemplate and visualize sensory images by juxtaposing disparate drawn from various domains (Hass 2016, pp. 33–34).

The presence of pre-Islamic themes and beliefs in Abu Dhuʿayb’s poem such as references to amulets as a means of warding off misfortunes and death and the portrayal of time as an autonomous force shaping human fate suggests that the poem was likely composed prior to the poet’s full embrace of Islam. Alternatively, if the poem dates to the period of his conversion to Islam, it may reflect a transitional phase in his thought, during which older cosmological frameworks coexisted with emerging Islamic beliefs (Hussein 2002, p. 202; 2021, p. 2).

Al-Mukhabbal al-Saʿdī (d. 16/637),30 a mukhaḍram poet, underscored the inevitability of death in his poetry. Responding to a detractor who claimed that wealth guarantees immortality and that the loss of fortune portends one’s demise, the poet reaffirms his trust in God. He rejects the notion that material wealth offers protection from mortality, declaring that even if he were to build al-Mushqqar, a renowned palace in Bahrain, atop an inaccessible plateau, death would still find him. For al-Mukhabbal, divine judgment is absolute, transcending worldly defenses and exposing the futility of attempting to elude one’s divinely appointed end.31

The poet states (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 118):32

لَـتُـنَـقِّـبَــنْ عـنّــي الــمـنـيَّـةُ إ     نَّ الله ليسَ كـحـكـمِـهِ حُـــكْــمُ

إنّي وجَــدْتُ الأمـــرَ أرْشَـــدُهُ     تَــقْـــوى الإلهِ وشّـــرُّهُ الإثْــمُ

“Even there my Doom should track me out: there is no power that can withstand God’s will!

Yea, I have found the straightest way in all things to be fear of God, and the worst of all to follow sin.”

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:76)

The term تنقيب (exploration) entails traversing the earth (Ibn Manzūr 2003, 8:665). In the poetic line لَـتُـنَـقِّـبَـنْ عـنّي الـمـنـيَّةُ (My doom should track me out), al-Mukhabbal employs the verb metaphorically to convey the idea that death will pursue and locate him anywhere. The phrase does not imply escape or sparing but rather underscores the inescapability of one’s appointed fate.

The expression لَـتُـنَـقِّـبَـنْ (to search vigorously) resonates with the Qurʾānic usage of the same root in [Q50:36]: ﴾فنَقَّبوا في البلاد هل مِن مَحيصٍ﴿ (Indeed, they searched vigorously through the earth ‘for gain and dominance.’ Yet was there any asylum ‘at all for them from God’?) (Hammad 2009, p. 910). The Qurʾānic context underscores the futility of worldly pursuit in the face of divine judgment, a theme that al-Mukhabbal’s verse subtly echoes. The poet’s formulation draws upon this resonance to affirm that no matter how far one travels or fortifies oneself, death, decreed by God, will ultimately prevail.

The second hemistich of the first line, draws implicitly on the Qurʾānic worldview, reinforcing the idea that God’s judgment surpasses all human designs.33 The subsequent poetic verse emphasizes that the path to guidance lies in mindfulness of God while sin leads astray.

These topics reveal the theological evolution from the pre-Islamic conception of fate and divine power to the more defined Islamic understanding of divine sovereignty. They also highlight the tension between individual agency and submission to God’s will.34

6. Rituals and Divine Interaction

Rain Prayer-Istisqā’

Rain holds profound significance in human life, particularly in the desert environment of the Arabian Peninsula where water is scarce and rainfall is infrequent or altogether absent. This ecological reality prompted the pre-Islamic Arab communities to develop distinctive rituals for istisqā’—the invocation of rain through supplicatory acts seeking divine precipitation upon the land and its inhabitants (Ibn Manzūr 2003, 4:619–620; Ibn al-Athīr n.d.).

The practices associated with istisqā’ were diverse. Some communities attributed rainfall to the position and alignment of the stars, believing that distant stars possessed influence over the descent of rain. Others engaged in ritual performances involving fire and wild cows to simulate rainfall. Certain practices also entailed symbolic purification such as washing garments—motivated by the belief that these gestures might invoke rainfall. In some cases, human intermediaries were invoked including kings, soothsayers, and even infants who were thought to possess spiritual potency or supernatural capacities to summon rain (Mūsāwī and ʿAbāsiya ibn Saʿīd 2016, pp. 135–41).35

In Islamic legal terminology, istisqā’ refers to the act of supplicating God for rainfall during periods of drought or withheld precipitation (al-ʿAsqalānī 2000, 2:634).36 It is regarded as a spiritual means of turning to God in times of hardship. Jurists unanimously affirm the legitimacy of صلاة الاستسقاء (the rain prayer), though they differ regarding its specific procedures and manner of performance (al-Ḥafīd 1995, 1:499–504; al-Ḥanafī 2002, 2:258–263; al-Mardāwī 1997, 2:425–434).

Numerous prophetic traditions (ḥadīths) address the practice of istisqā’, among them: (al-ʿAsqalānī 2000, 2:634, 641–45; al-Ḥafīd 1995, 1:503)37:

.“خرَجَ النّبيُّ صلّى الله عليه وسلّم يستسقي وحوّل رداءه”

The Prophet, peace be upon him, went out to perform the rain invocation and turned his cloak inside out.

The Islamic tradition unequivocally prohibits seeking rain from any source other than God. This principle is clearly articulated in a ḥadīth of the Prophet (al-Qushayrī 2001, p. 335):

.“أربعةٌ في أمتي من أمر الجاهلية، لا يتركونهنَّ: الفخر في الأحساب، والطّعن في الأنساب، والاستسقاء بالنّجوم والنياحة”

“There are four matters of the Jāhiliyyah among my Ummah that they will not abandon: Pride in one’s nobility, slandering people’s lineage, seeking rain by the stars, and wailing”.

(Ibn al-Hajjāj 2007, 2:463)

As such, istisqā’ is a ritual practice with pre-Islamic roots that was adopted into Islamic tradition but reformulated to affirm pure monotheism. While the practice persisted, it underwent significant theological refinement: any invocation of astral or human intermediaries was eliminated, and God alone was affirmed as the source of aid and relief. Thus, within Islam, istisqā’ came to embody not only a plea for rain but also a reaffirmation of tawḥīd—acknowledging God as the sole disposer of affairs and the One who sends down rain.

The practice of invocation rain (دعاء الاستسقاء) at the grave of the deceased was widespread in the pre-Islamic period. Some Pre-Islamic verses preserves direct rain-invocation formulas over graves, for example: Laylā bint Salama (d. unknown) mourning her brother (Yammūt 1934, p. 68):

سَقى اللهُ قبرًا لستُ زائرَ أهلهِ     بِبيشةَ إذْ ما أدركتْهُ المقادِرُ

May God send down rain upon a grave—whose kin I do not visit—in Bīsha, when the decrees of Fate overtook him.

Likewise, al-Fāriʿa bint Shaddād (d. unknown) mourning her brother (Yammūt 1934, p. 69):

أَسقِي بهِ قبرَ مَن أَعني وحُبَّ بهِ     قبرًا إليَّ ولو لم يَفْدِهِ فادِي

May it water the grave of the one I mean—and dear to me be that grave, even though no ransomed can ransom him.

It was rooted in the belief that the dead were not truly absent but continued to exist in some form. This worldview led individuals to dedicate portions of food and drink to the deceased, naming such offerings after them. Visitors would frequent gravesites, sit beside them, erect tents around them, and engage in personal acts of supplication— convinced that the soul remained present and did not perish. As an extension of this belief, mourners would pour water over graves, symbolically “giving drink” to the dead. This ritual gesture helps to explain the recurrence of poetic and rhetorical motifs in both verse and prose, in which rainclouds are depicted as watering or descending upon graves (ʿAlī 2001, 9:159).

The Bedouin’s cultural and intellectual sensibility enabled them to apprehend the harshness of drought and desolation as well as to recognize their antithesis— namely, the arrival of rain, imbued with connotations of joy, abundance, and renewal. Within this ecological contrast lies a deeper existential binary: drought emerges as a spectral figure of death, while rain symbolizes vitality, hope, and continuity. It is within this symbolic framework that poets often directed their rain invocations (suqyā) towards individuals they sought to honor—whether out of love, reverence, or praise. A striking instance of this motif appears in the elegy composed by the pre-Islamic poet al-Nābigha al-Dhubyānī (d. 605 CE/18 BH)38 for al-Nuʿmān ibn al-Ḥārith (al-Nābigha al-Dhubyānī n.d., p. 121):

سَقى الغيثُ قبرًا بين بُصرى وجاسِمٍ     بغَيْثٍ مِـن الـوسميّ قطــرٌ ووابِلُ

May the rain bless the grave between Buṣrā and Jāsim, with showers from the Wasmī— gentle drops and Wābil— pouring torrents.39

In this verse, the poet invokes rainfall upon the grave of King al-Nuʿmān—a gesture deeply embedded in the cultural worldview of the desert Arab. For the son of the desert, who intimately understands the life-giving power of water, it was natural to extend this blessing to the beloved dead.

Numerous examples of such suqyā invocations directed towards the deceased appear in pre-Islamic poetry, though this motif is conspicuously absent from al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt anthology. Nevertheless, one finds parallel expressions in the work of poets such as Imru’ al-Qays,40 whose verses reflect comparable symbolic associations between rainfall, reverence, and remembrance.

The following verse by Mutammim b. Nuwayra, in his elegy for his brother, gives voice to this cultural tradition of invoking rain upon the dead (al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1996, p. 268):

سَقَي اللهُ أرضًا حَلَّها قبرُ مالِكٍ     ذِهابَ الغَوادي الـمُدْجِناتِ فأمْرَعا

“May God grant the land where lies the grave of my brother dear the blessing of showers at dawn, and cover the ground with green.”

(al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī 1918, 2:208).41

The poet does not limit his supplication to the grave itself; rather, he extends his prayer to encompass the land that it holds. Invoking rain upon the grave implicitly bestows a blessing upon the surrounding terrain—an act infused with love, longing, and the belief in the enduring presence of the departed soul that is intimately bound to its burial site. In this elegiac moment, the poet entreats God to send rain upon the earth that cradles Mālik’s grave—a scene in which grief and hope converge.

Notably, the poet addresses his supplication to God, reflecting the intersection of pre-Islamic symbolic traditions with emerging Islamic conceptions of divine agency. This moment captures a transitional phase in which the movement from polytheism to monotheism was underway, yet, without a full rupture from the poetic imagery and ritual conventions inherited from the jāhilī past.

This process of semantic and ritual transformation is not unique to rain invocations. A striking example is the term صلاة (prayer), which was initially used by pre-Islamic communities to signify supplication and entreaty, a meaning that later evolved within the Islamic context. The Qurʾān adopted the term in its recognized form, establishing it as one of the central pillars of Islam (Abū ʿAwda 1985, 183). Building upon this earlier semantic foundation, ṣalā was redefined as a codified act of worship—characterized by specific physical gestures, recitations, and prescribed times and it became a cornerstone of Islamic devotional life. Against this backdrop, the emergence of ṣalāt al-istisqā’ may be read as both a continuation of earlier practices and their theological reformulation within an Islamic worldview; by contrast to the poetic duʿā’ al-istisqā’ that belongs to the symbolic register.

The duʿā’ al-istisqā’ (supplication for rain) in poetry often conveys an implicit resistance to death. It draws together the binary of death and life: the grave like the abandoned campsite (aṭlāl) serves as a symbol of mortality, while the motif of rain (suqyā) evokes vitality, renewal, abundance, and fertility. In this light, the rain invocation becomes a symbolic act—an imaginative gesture of defiance against death and an affirmation of life.

This duality is especially pronounced among desert dwellers, whose survival was inextricably linked to rainfall—so vital that they named it غَيْث (relief) and حيّ (life), underscoring the existential significance rain held within their worldview (Khulayf n.d., p. 65).

Although Islamic law recommends sprinkling water over the grave after burial—as indicated in the tradition:

.“وقال الشّيخ زكريا الأنصاري رحمه الله: (ويُسْتًحًبُّ أن يُرَشَّ) القبرُ (بالماء)؛ لئلاَّ ينْسِفَهُ الرّيحُ؛ ولأنّه صلى الله عليه وسلّم فَعَل ذلك بقبر ابنه. رواه الشّافعي”

(al-Anṣārī 2000, 1:329)

Shaykh Zakariyyā al-Anṣārī (may God have mercy on him) said: It is recommended (mustaḥabb) to sprinkle water on the grave, so that the wind does not erode it, and because the Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) did so at the grave of his son. This was narrated by al-Shāfiʿī.

This practice differs in both origin and meaning from the poetic invocation of suqyā (rainfall upon the grave). The latter does not emerge from an Islamic legal framework but rather from a deeply rooted cultural symbolism shaped by the Arabian Peninsula’s philosophical engagement with the existential polarity of death and life. This is evident in the poetry of the pre-Islamic Arabs, as well as in the verses of Christian poets such as ʿAdī ibn Zayd (1965, p. 38), suggesting that the motif transcends religious boundaries and reflects a broader humanistic vision.

In its poetic dimension, istisqā’ served a symbolic function: through the image of rainfall, poets invoked an imaginative counterforce to death—as if to ward it off from themselves or their loved ones. Yet, ultimately, such gestures remained an expression of longing in the face of the inevitable.

The rain prayer is a powerful example of how Islamic theology reinterpreted pre-Islamic practices. The shift from invoking celestial bodies to invoking God’s will underscore the central tenet of monotheism in Islam and marks a key theological and cultural transformation.

7. Summary and Conclusions

This study demonstrated that al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt offers a uniquely fertile ground to explore the interplay between early Arabic poetry and Islamic theological discourse. Far from serving merely as a cultural backdrop to the Qurʾān, the anthology exemplifies how poetic imagination, moral reflection, and metaphorical language actively shaped emerging Islamic ideas. Through analysis of key themes such as divine sovereignty, human mortality, ritual transformation, and moral virtue— this research illustrates how poets engaged with religious concepts not only as transmitters of inherited tradition but as creative interlocutors in the formation of Islamic consciousness.

The study confirms that early Arabic poetry, particularly that of mukhaḍram poets, did not simply echo pre-Islamic values but rather reconfigured them in dialogue with new theological paradigms. The Qurʾān itself, while distinct in genre and authority, both absorbed and transformed poetic imagery— especially in relation to themes including the inevitability of death, divine decree, and the symbolic significance of natural phenomena, such as rain. Simultaneously, poetry drew upon the Qurʾānic lexicon and ethos to rearticulate religious and existential insights within the expressive registers of verse.

Poetry, therefore, emerges in this study not only as literature, but as theology in its own right—a medium through which metaphysical ideas are rendered accessible, embodied, and emotionally resonant. The use of metaphor, personification, and poetic narrative becomes a mode of theological inquiry, expanding the epistemological framework through which Islamic thought is expressed and understood. In doing so, poets invite readers to imagine religious truth, not solely to reason through it.

Consequently, al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt becomes an indispensable resource for Qurʾānic studies and Islamic intellectual history. Its poetic corpus reveals how early Islamic society negotiated continuity and change, preserving the expressive power of poetry while orienting it towards new ethical and theological horizons. By positioning figurative imagery as central to the articulation of spiritual meaning, this study affirms the vital role of literature in the construction of religious knowledge.

Thus, literature and theology are shown to intersect as mutual practices of imaginative knowing. Studying the Qurʾān through the lens of poetry not only enriches textual interpretation but also advances a broader interdisciplinary dialogue. The research invites further inquiry into the poetic dimensions of sacred texts, underscoring the enduring relevance of literary imagination in the formation of religious thought.