Ahmad ibn Yahya Tha‘lab was one of Ibn Abu 'l-‘Abbas ‘Abd Allah ibn al-Mu‘tazz's teachers. It is narrated that, after some time apart, Ibn al-Mu‘tazz missed him sorely, and wrote to him (meter: rajaz):
A man in fetters thirsts
for water from cold rainclouds sent careening
by the wind, unsullied, unmuddied,
shed in abundance by dark cloud cover,
wetting the rock and coating it like reflective glass
that would flash if the sun hit it,
unmixed rainwater, clean and pure—
what passion equals his desire, if not mine for you?
And yet I dread you. Unlocker of barred knowledge,
you are the sharp-eyed language critic who,
if he says, "That's no good," then it won't fly.
Now we are apart, and far from one another,
but recollection reunites us, even though we don't unite.
Tha‘lab answered his student: "May God prolong your life! You took the opening lines from that poem of Jamil's I dictated to you: (meter: ṭawīl)
Women thirsting at a spring. Day and night
they hover, weakened, shrinking from the blows of rods,
never turning away and never getting
close enough to touch cool water.
On every drop, their eyes are fixed. The water-keepers' voices
are all they hear. With death for a barrier,
are they thirstier than I, who rave in love for you,
despite the opposition of the foe?
"And you took the closing lines from Ru’ba ibn al-‘Ajjaj!" (meter: rajaz)
Although you do not see me, I am
your brother still. You need vigilance, and my eye is on you,
and I love what it sees, whether or not you are seeing me.
Ibn al-Mu‘tazz was open to his teacher's reproach, and accepted it without resentment. It is said that, later on, Tha‘lab wrote to him (meter: basīṭ):
Tell this to your brother. Although he's far away,
and we are not together, really we are,
for my gaze is on his mental image
while our homes are far apart.
God knows I cannot recollect him.
How to recollect someone you never forget?
From A Selection from the Poetry of Bashshar by the Khalidi brothers
