بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ
Meaning:هِيَ الْأَخْلَاقُ تَنْبُتُ كَالنَّبَاتِ
إِذَا سُقِيَتْ بِمَاءِ الْمَكْرُمَاتِ
تَقُومُ إِذَا تَعَهَّدَهَا الْمُرَبِّي
عَلَى سَاقِ الْفَضِيلَةِ مُثْمِرَاتٍ
Language:
Arabic
These lines are from Maʿrūf al-Ruṣāfī’s poem هِيَ الْأَخْلَاقُ تَنْبُتُ كَالنَّبَاتِ. The DCT Poetry Encyclopedia lists the poem under al-Ruṣāfī, in al-baḥr al-wāfir, with 53 verses. Wikisource also preserves the poem under his name. (Poetry Archive)
The poem is not only about private manners. It soon turns toward education, motherhood, and the formation of children. Al-Ruṣāfī speaks of the mother’s embrace as a school and says that the child’s morals are measured by the morals of the mothers who nurture him. He also makes a wider argument for educating women and rejects the idea that knowledge should be denied to girls. (Poetry Archive)
Brief Explanation:
This is one of the clearest images of education.
Al-Ruṣāfī does not describe character as paint placed on the surface of a child. He does not describe it as a slogan, a rule, or a lecture. He gives us a living image:
Character grows.
That matters.
A plant is alive, but it is also vulnerable. It can rise, but it can also bend. It can bear fruit, but it can also dry out. It does not become strong by being shouted at. It becomes strong through water, light, soil, protection, and patient tending.
So too with character.
A child does not become truthful merely because adults say, “Tell the truth.”
A child does not become gentle merely because adults say, “Be kind.”
A child does not become responsible merely because adults say, “Do your duty.”
These words have their place, but words alone are not water.
Al-Ruṣāfī says that morals grow إِذَا سُقِيَتْ بِمَاءِ الْمَكْرُمَاتِ — when they are watered with the water of noble deeds. The water is not talk about nobility. It is nobility practiced. It is the adult’s fairness. It is the teacher’s patience. It is the parent’s truthfulness. It is the school’s atmosphere. It is the way strength is used to protect rather than crush.
Children drink from all of this.
They drink from the tone of correction.
They drink from the way adults speak about absent people.
They drink from how mistakes are handled.
They drink from whether beauty is cared for or neglected.
They drink from whether the weak are noticed.
They drink from whether promises are kept.
They drink from whether work is done with reverence or only with haste.
That is why the word الْمُرَبِّي is so important.
The murabbī is not merely a person who gives information. The murabbī tends. He returns. He watches what is growing. He notices what is drying. He does not expect fruit from a plant he has not watered.
To my ear, the heart of the poem is in the phrase إِذَا تَعَهَّدَهَا — “when he tends it.”
Character needs taʿāhud: repeated care.
Not one speech.
Not one assembly.
Not one poster on the wall.
Not one punishment after the damage has already spread.
Repeated care.
This is where many homes and schools become careless. We want children to show fruit, but we do not always ask what has been watering them. We want honesty, but do they see adults being honest? We want reverence, but is the environment reverent? We want service, but do we honor service, or only reward display? We want inner discipline, but is there rhythm, order, and beauty around the child?
The poem will not let us escape that question.
The next image is just as strong:
عَلَى سَاقِ الْفَضِيلَةِ — upon the stem of virtue.
A plant without a stem cannot stand upright. It may have life, but it has no structure. It may be green, but it cannot carry fruit.
Virtue gives character its uprightness.
A child may have good feelings, but without habit those feelings may not hold under pressure. A child may be affectionate, but without discipline affection may become selfish. A child may be bright, but without humility brightness may become pride. A child may be brave, but without mercy bravery may become harshness.
Virtue is the stem.
It gives direction to the living thing.
Then comes the final word: مُثْمِرَاتٍ — fruit-bearing.
This is beautiful because fruit is not for the tree alone. Fruit is a gift. It feeds others. It gives sweetness. It carries seed. It makes future life possible.
So character is not merely private refinement. It must become benefit.
Truthfulness must become safety for others.
Gentleness must become mercy in speech.
Courage must become protection of the weak.
Responsibility must become work completed well.
Cleanliness must become care for shared spaces.
Gratitude must become less waste.
Knowledge must become service.
Faith must become goodness carried into the world.
In a school, this poem asks a hard question:
Are we watering character, or only measuring leaves?
Marks are not water.
Policies are not water.
Timetables are not water.
They may create order, but they cannot replace living moral practice. The real water is what the child receives every day through the hands, words, habits, and expectations of the adults around him.
This is why practical life matters.
Sweeping a floor can water responsibility.
Serving food can water humility.
Growing plants can water patience.
Caring for younger children can water tenderness.
Repairing what one has damaged can water justice.
Speaking the truth about one’s mistake can water courage.
Working quietly without applause can water sincerity.
These are not additions to education. They are part of the water.
A note about the wording:
The phrase مَاءِ الْمَكْرُمَاتِ is very precise. الْمَكْرُمَاتِ are noble deeds, generous acts, honorable qualities. Al-Ruṣāfī does not say that character is watered by fear, pressure, or competition. He says it is watered by nobility.
That does not mean softness without discipline. A plant sometimes needs pruning. A child sometimes needs correction. But even pruning is for growth. It is not done to humiliate the plant. Correction, when it is clean, protects the soul while guiding the behavior.
The word تَعَهَّدَهَا also carries care over time. It is not neglect followed by anger. It is not leaving the child to absorb disorder and then blaming him for what has grown crooked. It is watchfulness. It is faithful attention.
Moral Use:
These lines are useful for every parent, teacher, and school leader.
Before correcting a child.
Before planning a lesson.
Before designing a timetable.
Before praising achievement.
Before judging behavior.
Before asking why the fruit is not there.
They ask:
What has been watering this child?
Has the child been watered by truth?
By beauty?
By reverence?
By noble work?
By mercy?
By self-control?
By adults who live what they ask?
Or has the child been watered by haste, noise, contradiction, fear, vanity, and neglect?
A plant tells the story of its care.
So does a child.
Al-Ruṣāfī’s image is gentle, but it is not weak. It places responsibility back where it belongs. If we want fruit, we must tend the root. If we want uprightness, we must strengthen the stem. If we want character, we must water the child with noble deeds.
Character grows.
But it does not grow by accident.
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