Cordoba Dates

“An immortal human epic recounting the journey of the young Muhammad ibn Abi Amir (al-Mansur) from the countryside of Algeciras in Andalusia to Cordoba, and then his gradual ascent to the pinnacle of power, where the boundaries blur between great ambitions and deadly greed, heroism and tyranny, praiseworthy cunning and reprehensible cunning, strength and brutality, firmness and tyranny, noble goals and dubious means, impossible love and the bitter struggle for power.”
– The limit, Muhammad, do you know it?
– The limit? The limit of the limbs and what we own, or the limit of the soul, heart, and imagination? As for the actions of the limbs, their limit is treason and sin, and neither you nor I can cross it. As for the limit of the heart and soul, it is where they wander… to where lives, destinies, and countries are determined… where there is no time, no place, no dates, no night, and no day.
Suppose I leave this place and never return, would my soul or my heart leave it? And would I have authority over them?
If only it had been… yes. If only it had been, so I could rest and find rest.
If they remain here, whether I am present or absent, whether I like it or not, then what does separation bring other than the betrayal of the heart and soul?
Can something be nonexistent as long as it remains a secret in the heart, so that when it is revealed, it comes to existence? So I reveal it and I don’t care, for it exists, exists, exists. I don’t suppress it, as if I were denying myself, but I protect it with chastity, guard it with complaint, and honor it with loyalty.