When I close my eyes and think of Wallada bint al-Musktafi’s poetry, the lines that I recall the most are perhaps the least consequential of the total of her body of work. “Forsooth I allow my lover to kiss my cheek. And bestow my kisses on him who craves it”. The thought that a 10th century Umayyad princess had these words embroidered in gold on the right shoulder of the cape she wore when she engaged in poetry competitions with the greatest minds of her age, never ceases to bring me joy. Wallada was in many aspects, the spirit of her age. Beautiful, spiteful and poetic.
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