On the Publication of "Sahra' Maha" — a Diwan of Poetry by the Rahbani Brothers

On the occasion of the publication of "Sahra' Maha," a diwan of poetry by the Rahbani Brothers, Mr. Najat Qassab Hasan sent them this letter, expressing in it his opinion of their poetry — and perhaps his opinion matches the opinions of the thousands of lovers of their songs, which enchant and stir us at every hour as they are broadcast from the various Arab radio stations, most of them from the throat of Fairuz, of the tender, silken voice!

My dear friends, the two brothers.

It gladdens me to bring to you both, and to poetry and to all who savor it, the glad tidings that the printing of "Sahra' Maha" is complete — the diwan of sweet, enchanting, refined, chaste love poetry: your diwan. And though its printing has been delayed until today, and I bear my share of the responsibility for the public's long waiting for it, I am delighted that it comes out with the first buds of spring, with the blossoms and the enchanting fragrance.

I have always, as you both know, prized the friendship that has joined me to the two gifted men whose name is "the Rahbani Brothers"; but today I prize this friendship more than at any time past, and I bow before your singular gift, which opened like a flower in the groves of Antelias, amid the fragrant lemon trees and the enchantment shared out between nature and nature's children, girls and boys; I bow before your poetry: the bouquet that has joined the splendor of virgin flowers to the beauty of an arrangement made by a slender, skillful hand.

Your poetry — which I heard, then read, then learned by heart, little though I memorize of the fruits of Abqar — holds the softness of sincerity and purity; it holds the innocence of childhood and its shyness; it holds the tenderness of loving hearts that embrace the stars, and drift with the wispy mist, and stray through the Qadumiyyat among the virgin thickets; and it holds the enchantment of the woman refined until she became a symbol, and the sweetness of the love that is the love of all, and the longing that is the living creature's yearning for happiness.

One of the old critics said of the poetry of Omar ibn Abi Rabi'a: Nothing has entered upon women in their houses more dangerous to them than the poetry of this libertine. And I borrow the expression and turn it about: Nothing has entered upon young girls in their bowers sweeter or purer than the poetry of these two young men — poetry that grazes no virtue and wounds no modesty.

And if poetry is the son of music, and the sweetest of it is that which is nearest its mother, then your sweet poetry has sprung from your sweet music, so that its reader can scarcely hold back his tongue or his fancy from humming the words along to the enchanting melody. And how should poets ever succeed in being more musical than two who were created for music and have lived, with poetry, for its sake?

Accept, then, with the glad tidings and the greeting, my wishes for your lasting health, well-being, and happiness, that hearts may go on delighting in what you bring forth for the people of the verses of beauty, of enchantment, and of intoxicating melody.

Yours faithfully, Najat Qassab Hasan