# Hafsa bint al-Hajj al-Rukuniyya

Ḥafṣa bint al-Ḥājj ar-Rakūniyya (حفصة بنت الحاج الركونية, born c. 1135, died AH 586/1190–91 CE) was a Granadan aristocrat and perhaps one of the most celebrated Andalusian female poets of medieval Arabic literature.

## Biography

We know little about Ḥafṣa's origins and early life. Sources do not tell us when she was born, but her birth must have been in or after AH 530/1135. She was the daughter of a Berber man, al-Hajj ar-Rukuni, a Granadan, who does not seem to have left traces among biographers. This family was noble and rich. We can therefore consider the father of Hafsa a notable figure in the city. Around the time that the Almohads came to power in 1154, Ḥafṣa seems to have begun a relationship with the poet Abū Jaʿfar Aḥmad ibn ʿAbd al-Malik Ibn Saʿīd; to judge from the surviving poetry, Ḥafṣa initiated the affair. With this, Ḥafṣa enters the historical record more clearly; the relationship seems to have continued until Abū Jaʿfar's execution in 1163 by Abū Saʿīd ʿUthmān, son of Abd al-Mu'min and governor of Granada: Abū Jaʿfar had sided with his extended family, the Banu Saʿid, against Adb al-Muʿmin.
Ḥafṣa later became known as a teacher, working for Caliph Abu Yusuf Yaqub al-Mansur to educate his daughters in Marrakesh. She died there in 1190 or 1191. She is perhaps one of the most celebrated Andalusian female poets of medieval Arabic literature.

## Poetry

Around 60 lines of Ḥafṣa's poetry survive, among nineteen compositions, making Ḥafṣa the best attested of the medieval female Moorish poets (ahead of Wallada bint al-Mustakfi and Nazhun al-Garnatiya bint al-Qulai’iya). Her verse encompasses love poetry, elegy, panegyric, satirical, and even obscene verse, giving her work unusual range. Perhaps her most famous exchange is a response to Abū Jaʿfar, here as translated by A. J. Arberry:
    Abu Jaafar the poet was in love with Hafsa, and sent her the following poem:
       God ever guard the memory
       Of that fair night, from censure free,
       Which hid two lovers, you and me,
       Deep in Mu’ammal’s poplar-grove;
       And, as the happy hours we spent,
       There gently wafted a sweet scent
       From flowering Nejd, all redolent
       With the rare fragrance of the clove.
       High in the trees a turtle-dove
       Sang rapturously of our love,
       And boughs of basil swayed above
       A gently murmuring rivulet;
       The meadow quivered with delight
       Beholding such a joyous sight,
       The interclasp of bodies white,
       And breasts that touched, and lips that met.
    Hafsa replied in this manner:
       Do not suppose it pleased the dell
       That we should there together dwell
       In happy union; truth to tell,
       It showed us naught but petty spite.
       The river did not clap, I fear,
       For pleasure that we were so near,
       The dove raised not his song of cheer
       Save for his personal delight.
       Think not such noble thoughts as you
       Are worthy of; for if you do
       You’ll very quickly find, and rue,
       High thinking is not always wise.
       I scarce suppose that yonder sky
       Displayed its wealth of stars on high
       For any reason, but to spy
       On our romance with jealous eyes.