Mahjoub Siraj: The harp of virginal passion

Written by: Abdul Latif Mujtaba

These days mark the fourth anniversary of the passing of the sensitive poet Mahjoub Siraj, whose heart bleeds with poems that have become a sanctuary in which lovers, the wounded, and the victims of virginal passion are wet. Their knots were broken as a result of the suffering and pain they had endured that they had no tolerance for, so they retreated until the storms passed until their time was long, just as the actions of Mahjoub Siraj, Qais bin Al-Malouh, Jamil Buthaina, Mahlaq Tajjouj, and others who became monks in the temple of love, were struck by the memory and opened the stream of painful singing.
Mahjoub Siraj wrote bloody texts that will continue to bleed with the same love and the same pulse and grief. They were the sentiments that Salah bin Badia spoke about in the late sixties of the last century, and they became a beacon that guides the hearts of the wounded and the bereaved who voluntarily and willingly surrendered their hearts to those they loved, but they betrayed them.
Likewise, the epic of the white wound, that eternal sanctuary.
Also, the songs of the late resident poet continued, which later became pieces, songs, and compositions in which passion and pain – as the Tijani poet Youssef Bashir says – clouded the hard hearts that had been burned by the embers of affection, the fire of love, and the arrogance of the beloved, so they were: (Why do you ask about me again after my hopes have been paralyzed?)
Which was spoken by the atomic artist Ibrahim Awad, may God have mercy on him among his immortal works is Habat Shawq, the immortal love epic in which the poet affirms his steadfastness in the covenant of love, despite resistance and estrangement, and despite the eruption of storms of longing, thunders of love, and the beating of the heart. It became a song that lovers sing along with the sweet voice of the artist Salah Mustafa.
It became the hymn of the celibate in the shrine of the Beloved.
Mahjoub Siraj, may God have mercy on him, in his poetic stature is no less than those virginal poets who were previously mentioned at the beginning of this article, for he is the one who shed his blood, his soul, and his life, and offered his heart as a flower to his beloved, as the great poet Abd al-Rahman al-Rih said.
(Here is my heart, I gave you a flower)
May God have mercy on the harp of virginal passion, Mahjoub Siraj.