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إلى عرفاتِ اللهِ يا خيرَ زائرٍ

عليكَ سلامُ اللهِ في عرفاتِ

ويومَ تولِّي وجهةَ البيتِ ناضرًا

وسيمَ مجالي البِشْرِ والقسماتِ

على كلِّ أفقٍ بالحجازِ ملائكٌ

تزفُّ تحايا اللهِ والبركاتِ

لدى البابِ جبريلُ الأمينُ براحِهِ

رسائلُ رحمانيّةُ النفحاتِ

وفي الكعبةِ الغرّاءِ ركنٌ مرحِّبٌ

بكعبةِ قُصّادٍ وركنِ عُفاةِ

وزمزمُ تجري بينَ عينيكَ أعينًا

منَ الكوثرِ المعسولِ منفجراتِ

لكَ الدينُ يا ربَّ الحجيجِ جمعتَهم

لبيتٍ طهورِ الساحِ والعرصاتِ

أرى الناسَ أفواجًا ومن كلِّ بقعةٍ

إليكَ انتهوا من غربةٍ وشتاتِ

تساووا فلا الأنسابُ فيها تفاوتٌ

لديكَ ولا الأقدارُ مختلفاتِ

ويا ربِّ هل تُغني عنِ العبدِ حجّةٌ

وفي العمرِ ما فيهِ منَ الهفواتِ

وتشهدُ ما آذيتُ نفسًا ولم أضرْ

ولم أبغِ في جهري ولا خطراتي

ولا حُمِّلتْ نفسٌ هوًى لبلادِها

كنفسي في فعلي وفي نفثاتي

وقدّمتُ أعذاري وذلّي وخشيتي

وجئتُ بضعفي شافعًا وشكاتي

وأنتَ وليُّ العفوِ فامحُ بناصعٍ

منَ الصفحِ ما سوّدتُ من صفحاتي

ومن تضحكِ الدنيا إليهِ فيغتررْ

يمتْ كقتيلِ الغيدِ بالبسماتِ

إذا زرتَ بعدَ البيتِ قبرَ محمدٍ

وقبّلتَ مثوى الأعظُمِ العطراتِ

وفاضتْ منَ الدمعِ العيونُ مهابةً

لأحمدَ بينَ السترِ والحجراتِ

وأشرقَ نورٌ تحتَ كلِّ ثنيّةٍ

وضاعَ أريجٌ تحتَ كلِّ حصاةِ

فقل لرسولِ اللهِ يا خيرَ مرسلٍ

أبثُّكَ ما تدري منَ الحسراتِ

شعوبُكَ في شرقِ البلادِ وغربِها

كأصحابِ كهفٍ في عميقِ سُباتِ

بأيمانِهم نورانِ ذكرٌ وسنّةٌ

فما بالُهم في حالكِ الظلماتِ

وقل ربِّ وفِّقْ للعظائمِ أمتي

وزيِّنْ لها الأفعالَ والعزماتِ

Ila 'arafati Llahi ya khayra za'irin

'Alayka salamu Llahi fi 'arafati

Wa-yawma tuwalli wijhata l-bayti nadiran

Wasima majali l-bishri wa-l-qasamati

'Ala kulli ufqin bi-l-Hijazi mala'ikun

Tazuffu tahaya Llahi wa-l-barakati

Lada l-babi Jibrilu l-aminu bi-rahihi

Rasa'ilu rahmaniyyatu n-nafahati

Wa-fi l-Ka'bati l-gharra'i ruknun murahhibun

Bi-ka'bati qussadin wa-rukni 'ufati

Wa-Zamzamu tajri bayna 'aynayka a'yunan

Mina l-kawthari l-ma'suli munfajirati

Laka d-dinu ya rabba l-hajiji jama'tahum

Li-baytin tahuri s-sahi wa-l-'arasati

Ara n-nasa afwajan wa-min kulli buq'atin

Ilayka ntahaw min ghurbatin wa-shatati

Tasawaw fa-la l-ansabu fiha tafawutun

Ladayka wa-la l-aqdaru mukhtalifati

Wa-ya rabbi hal tughni 'ani l-'abdi hijjatun

Wa-fi l-'umri ma fihi mina l-hafawati

Wa-tash-hadu ma adhaytu nafsan wa-lam adur

Wa-lam abghi fi jahri wa-la khatarati

Wa-la hummilat nafsun hawan li-biladiha

Ka-nafsi fi fi'li wa-fi nafathati

Wa-qaddamtu a'dhari wa-dhulli wa-khashyati

Wa-ji'tu bi-da'fi shafi'an wa-shakati

Wa-anta waliyyu l-'afwi fa-mhu bi-nasi'in

Mina s-safhi ma sawwadtu min safahati

Wa-man tadhaki d-dunya ilayhi fa-yaghtarir

Yamut ka-qatili l-ghidi bi-l-basamati

Idha zurta ba'da l-bayti qabra Muhammadin

Wa-qabbalta mathwa l-a'zumi l-'atirati

Wa-fadat mina d-dam'i l-'uyunu mahabatan

Li-Ahmada bayna s-sitri wa-l-hujurati

Wa-ashraqa nurun tahta kulli thaniyyatin

Wa-da'a arijun tahta kulli hasati

Fa-qul li-rasuli Llahi ya khayra mursalin

Abuththuka ma tadri mina l-hasarati

Shu'ubuka fi sharqi l-biladi wa-gharbiha

Ka-ashabi kahfin fi 'amiqi subati

Bi-aymanihim nurani dhikrun wa-sunnatun

Fa-ma baluhum fi haliki z-zulumati

Wa-qul rabbi waffiq li-l-'aza'imi ummati

Wa-zayyin laha l-af'ala wa-l-'azamati

To the Arafat of God, O best of pilgrims —

God's peace be upon you on the plain of Arafat.

And on the day you turn, radiant, toward the House,

your face all brightness in its noble lines,

on every horizon of the Hijaz stand angels

bearing in procession God's greetings and His blessings.

At the door is Gabriel the Trustworthy, in his palm

letters fragrant with the breath of the All-Merciful;

and in the resplendent Kaaba a cornerstone gives welcome —

itself a shrine of seekers, a pillar for those who plead.

And Zamzam runs before your eyes in springs

bursting from the honeyed river of Paradise.

Faith is Yours, O Lord of the pilgrims: You gathered them

to a House whose courts and precincts are all purity.

I see mankind in throngs, from every corner of the earth,

ending at Your door their exile and their scattering.

They stand as equals: no lineage outranks another

before You, and no worldly stations differ.

And O my Lord — can one pilgrimage avail Your servant

when a lifetime holds the stumbles that mine holds?

You witness I never wounded a soul, did no harm,

sought no wrong in my speech nor in my secret thoughts;

and no soul was ever charged with love of its homeland

deeper than mine, in all I do and all I utter.

I have laid out my excuses, my humbleness, my fear,

and brought my weakness and my complaint to intercede.

You are the Master of pardon: erase with the white light

of forgiveness whatever pages I have blackened.

For he at whom the world smiles, and who is beguiled,

dies as the victims of beauties die — slain by a smile.

When, after the House, you visit Muhammad's tomb

and kiss the resting place of the fragrant bones,

and eyes brim over with the tears of awe

for Ahmad, there between the veil and the chambers,

a light will dawn beneath every mountain pass

and a perfume rise from under every stone.

Then say to God's Messenger: O best of the sent,

I pour out to you sorrows you already know.

Your peoples, in the east of the lands and in their west,

are like the Sleepers of the Cave, sunk deep in slumber.

In their right hands are two lights — the Book and the Way —

so why do they wander in the blackest of darkness?

And say: my Lord, make my nation equal to great things,

and adorn its deeds and its resolves with grace.

What this song means

Every year, when the pilgrims begin to gather on the plain of Arafat, Arab radio reaches for the same recording. “Ila Arafat Allah” is not merely a song about the Hajj; for seven decades it has been the sound of the Hajj for millions who experience the season through the airwaves. That an ode written in 1910 to flatter a Khedive became this — the common property of every pilgrim — is one of the great stories of editorial transformation in Arabic song.

Ahmed Shawqi, the “Prince of Poets,” composed the original sixty-three verses as an elegant apology: Khedive Abbas Hilmi II had invited him along on the pilgrimage, and Shawqi, declining, sent the ruler on his way wrapped in angels and blessings, addressing him as “son of Muhammad.” The poem might have remained a courtly artifact. Instead, two decades after Shawqi’s death, it passed through a series of careful hands. The singer Nagat Ali had recorded a short selection for the radio in 1949; when Umm Kulthum fell in love with the text, she first had to obtain Nagat Ali’s gracious waiver. Then Ahmed Rami cut some forty verses and surgically removed the Khedive: “O son of Muhammad” became “O best of pilgrims,” and “if you visit, my lord, the tomb of Muhammad” became “when, after the House, you visit.” The addressee was no longer a prince but anyone with dust on their feet.

Riad al-Sunbati composed his setting in 1951, and it is among the purest examples of his sacred style: maqam Huzam — the ceremonial mode of his great religious qasidas — carried on the processional masmudi rhythm, with a prelude in which the drums fall like the footsteps of a departing caravan. The melody keeps entirely to the older Eastern modes, bending into the broken, supplicating color of Saba exactly where the text turns inward: “O my Lord, can one pilgrimage avail Your servant?” The most famous public performance came at the Azbakiyya theatre in April 1955, and in 1963 she recorded it again for the new Egyptian television, filmed by Ahmed Badrakhan with visual designs by Shadi Abdel Salam — the cameras caught her weeping as she sang.

The sung poem moves through three ascending registers. First, pageantry: angels on every horizon, Gabriel at the door, Zamzam braided with the rivers of Paradise — Shawqi’s neoclassical imagination staging the Hajj as a celestial court ceremony. Then humility: the speaker lays out his excuses and his weakness, asking that the white light of pardon erase the pages he has blackened, in one of Shawqi’s most exquisite puns. Finally, at the Prophet’s tomb, the poem becomes an argument: your peoples sleep like the Sleepers of the Cave, two lights in their hands, wandering in darkness. It ends not in comfort but in petition — “my Lord, make my nation equal to great things.”

Umm Kulthum left her own fingerprint on the text, singing “I see mankind in throngs” — afwajan, the Qur’an’s word — where Shawqi had written “in categories.” It is a single word, and it is everything: the crowd of pilgrims becomes the crowd of revelation. In that small act of editorship, as in the whole history of this song, the archive shows us how a masterpiece is not only written; it is inherited, argued with, trimmed, and finally given away to everyone.

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Concepts

Understanding Maqam

A plain-language guide to the maqam system — quarter tones, sayr, and tarab — through four maqams heard in Umm Kulthum's songs: Rast, Kurd, Huzam, Farahfaza.

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History

The First Thursday Concerts

Once a month, on the first Thursday, the Arab world stopped: the story of Umm Kulthum's live radio concerts and the ritual they became.

Read more