Back in college I took a class on medieval Spain. The professor, one of my favorites, always emphasized the fact that, when you look the history of the Iberian Peninsula, you shouldn’t just see a series of battles or conflicts but rather an amalgamation of cultures, traditions, and peoples. To bring this point home, we read a lot of the literature produced in Medieval Iberia, from the shorter Arabic and Hebrew poems to the Castilian epics.
Of all the fascinating things we read, the Arabic poetry impressed me most. Beautiful, delicate, and refined, it has a way of conjuring up romantic and nostalgic images of lost loves, warm summer evenings, and youthful joy.
Here are a few of my favorites (taken from a collection 
The wind does the delicate work
of a goldsmith
crimping water into mesh
for a coat of mail.
Then comes the rain
and rivets the pieces together
with little nails
—Abu l-Qasim al-Manishi (12th century, Sevilla)
A serene evening.
We spend it drinking wine.
The sun, going down,
lays its cheek against the earth
to rest.
The breeze lifts
the coattails of the hills.
The skin of the sky
is as smooth as the pelt
of the river.
How lucky we are to find
this spot for our sojourn
with doves cooing
for our greater delight.
Birds sing,
branches sigh
and darkness drinks up
the red wine of sunset.
—Muhammad ibn Ghalib al-Rusafi (12th century, Ruzafa, Valencia)
The goblets were heavy
when they were brought to us
but filled with fine wine
they became so light
they were on the point of flying away
with all their contents
just as our bodies are lightened
by the spirits.
—Idris ibn al-Yamani (11th century, Ibiza)
