Layli and Majnun Read online

  Hoping for wind-blown scattered dust to wend

  Its way to her from her cave-dwelling friend;

  She’d sing sad songs, and go continually

  To scan the road, but always fruitlessly—

  She’d stumble like a drunk, and cast such glances,

  Sadder than are a thousand sad romances,

  She’d seek to find out where Majnun was hidden

  And hurt her soul with things that were forbidden,

  And how impatiently she would complain

  About her lover’s absence, but in vain.

  What had been covered was now on display,

  Her secret love was now as clear as day,

  And her impatient pain was mixed with fear

  Of what her husband or her father’d hear—

  But who’s afraid, once love is in the soul,

  Of husbandly or fatherly control?

  Majnun Learns of Layli’s Marriage

  That learnèd singer of Baghdad, behold,

  Here is the stirring story that he told:

  *

  The man who’d broken all his chains, and who

  Was crazy for the moon he couldn’t view,

  Majnun, whose liver smoldered and became

  Like grilled kebabs in passion’s ardent flame,83

  Majnun, proprietor of a little town

  Whose ruined buildings had all tumbled down,84

  Frequented all the caravanserais

  With no companions but his anxious sighs.

  The scent of Layli’s litter seemed to bring

  To him a fragrance sweeter then the spring,

  But as he breathed it in his limbs all showed

  A sallow color85 that like amber glowed;

  Black melancholy had affected him

  And showed its influence in every limb;

  Weak and confused he fell beneath a tree

  That had a thorny trunk and canopy,

  And he was so perplexed he couldn’t tell

  Whether it was on thorns or flowers he fell.

  And then he saw a female camel pass

  Swift as a snake that’s twisting through the grass;

  Its pitch-black rider pulled back on his rein

  And like a demon yelled out in disdain,

  “You’re so in love, you fool, you’re so far gone,

  You’ve no idea of what’s been going on;

  Tug at the reins and turn your horse’s head,

  You’ll find no faith in love, you’ve been misled;

  The business you’re involved in’s dark as night,

  Your lover has moved on, gone out of sight—

  It’s pointless, useless, everything you’re doing,

  You’ll finish up with nothing from your wooing!

  You never thought the one you love would be

  Unfaithful to you, and your enemy?

  Well, she’s your enemy and faithless too,

  And doesn’t want to see or hear of you!

  She’s thrown you to the winds and she forgets you,

  Gone back on what she promised and rejects you.

  They’ve given her away, and she’s a bride,

  Her husband’s young, and now she’s satisfied;

  She serves him as she should, and in his arms

  She doesn’t struggle or withhold her charms,

  Each day she’s with him, always, face to face,

  Clasping her husband in her close embrace;

  Her days are spent in kisses, hugs, caresses,

  So why should you care how her love progresses?

  She’s far away from you and you’re alone

  So smash this love of yours against a stone!

  For years to come she’ll have forgotten you,

  And now it’s up to you, forget her too!

  A thousand women are to blame, not one,

  The promises they make are soon undone—

  Men thought up vows and wrote them out, but when

  It came to women’s vows they broke the pen;

  Women can be your friend, but in the end,

  You’ll find out that they’ve found another friend,

  And when she’s cuddled by another love

  It won’t be you that she’ll be thinking of!

  Women have more desire than men, for sure;86

  Domestic duties are what keeps them pure . . .

  And women won’t play fair, they like to cheat,

  All that they’re really good at is deceit.

  Many’ve committed crimes, they’re criminal,

  Not one of them is faithful, none at all!

  And when a man is with a woman, she’s

  The one to watch for infidelities;

  What is a woman but a showcase for

  Deceit? Outwardly peace, inwardly war,

  The worst of enemies, the killer of

  Your soul when she declares undying love.

  You say, ‘Do this,’ she’s other things to do—

  ‘And don’t do that,’ she’s still ignoring you;

  When you’re depressed she hasn’t got a care,

  When you’re delighted she’s in deep despair;

  This is the way that women are, my friend,

  And tales of women’s evil never end.”

  *

  The demon’s wild offensive talk provoked

  An inward blazing fire that almost choked

  With smoky anger poor outraged Majnun,

  Who fell as if an epileptic swoon

  Had toppled him, and as he fell his head

  Struck hard against a stone that turned blood-red;

  He fell among sharp rocks, his soul was shattered

  And all his worn-out clothes were torn and tattered.

  *

  Even the demon whose foul words had maimed

  Majnun’s sad soul felt sorry and ashamed;

  He watched, and as he watched he saw that soon

  Awareness was returning to Majnun—

  A thousand times he asked for pardon then,

  Saying he was the most ashamed of men,

  Saying, “All that I told you was a lie,

  Forgive me, let such silliness go by,

  Do as you wish with me for my offense,

  I offer you my soul in recompense.

  Your chaste, veiled love still loves you, and her heart

  Is still as broken that you’re far apart;

  If she has wed another it’s still you

  She thinks and dreams of, and is faithful to,

  She speaks of no one else but you, throughout

  The world it’s you she cannot live without

  And every moment, always, she will find

  That you and only you are in her mind.

  As for her husband, that poor man she’s wed,

  He hasn’t spent one night in Layli’s bed;

  She’s been a wife to him now for a year,

  But you have all her love still, never fear,

  And if she lives a thousand years without you

  Nothing will make her yield to him, or doubt you.”

  *

  His talk seemed like a mirror from which two

  Dissimilar faces peered, but which was true?

  Though even so, Majnun’s despair grew less

  And he was comforted in his distress.

  Now like a bird that has a broken wing,

  Despite his head wound, he began to sing

  A song like threaded rubies—one that dealt

  With broken vows and all the grief he felt;

  But still his mind was hazy, clouded, dim,

  And still his lo
ve had heard no news of him.

  Majnun Complains of Layli to the Wind

  The bride’s maidservant led the dazzling bride

  Down from her litter to the world outside.87

  This bride no artist’s brush could represent

  Descended from her litter’s traveling tent,

  Constrained to join the husband she must meet

  As if she’d journeyed there with shackled feet,

  And grieving inwardly, still brokenhearted,

  Longing for him from whom she had been parted.

  *

  When Majnun heard about her married state

  His grief redoubled and he cursed his fate;

  His knowledge that his love was now a bride

  Strengthened the madness that his name implied;

  He stumbled like a bird whose wings have failed,

  As weak as was the breath that he exhaled.

  He set off for her home, weeping and moaning,

  Grown thin now as a hair with all his groaning

  And still obsessively addressing her:

  “You’re happy with the man whom you prefer,

  But what’s become of us sat side by side

  And of the thousand love-knots that we tied?

  Where are the hopeful plans that we prepared,

  Where are the humble promises we shared,

  Now that you break your vows so carelessly

  And hide your sinless face away from me?

  I think your heart is done with loyalty now,

  And where’s the friendship in a broken vow?

  I gave my soul to you, and I received

  From you glib words that flattered and deceived,

  The soul I gave deserved your love, but you

  Bestowed love owed to me on someone new.

  You’re happy with your new love—I can see it;

  And you neglect your old love—well, so be it.

  But still I ask, when you’re in his embrace,

  See that you don’t forget my name and face;

  In your sweet garden all my youth was spent,

  And oh, the agonies I underwent—

  I was the dove that labored . . . even so

  The ripened fruit was stolen by a crow;

  Your dates are sweet, but still they ought to be

  Like spines and thorns to everyone but me;

  What scorching ardent sighs I heaved for you—

  No one deserves your garden as I do.

  I was the first love whom you chose, but then,

  You chose to treat me as the worst of men;

  I gave my heart to you, and on that day

  I never thought that you would act this way.

  You tricked me with your vows, but I have stayed

  Loyal to you, true to the vows I made—

  Look at your vows, the loving words you said,

  Then look at what you’ve done, and who you’ve wed;

  Your heart was heated by another’s flame,

  Before my eyes you showed you felt no shame.

  If we cannot distinguish good from ill

  Others will follow us who can and will,

  And they will be the arbiters who should

  Decide what’s bad in us and what is good;

  They’ll see how I have suffered, and they’ll see

  What I have done to you and you to me.

  I think that I’ve been blind, they’ll think so too,

  And that the one who broke her vows is you.

  A chastely budding rose will have no thorn—

  It opens, breaks its oath, and thorns are born;

  Wine’s not a matter of acclaim or shame

  Till drunken ruffians give it a bad name;

  It’s when the waning moon has gone that night

  Becomes a fearsome dark bereft of light.

  All of my life was tied to what you swore,

  For you it was an oath you could ignore,

  And you don’t act to please me now, but I

  Will not forget you, not until I die.

  For all the suffering that you’ve put me through

  I’d suffer more if I resented you—

  You’ve filled my heart with grief, and there’s no space

  Remaining to be shamed by my disgrace.

  You’ve changed, and I don’t know you; I can’t say

  It’s your heart that’s disloyal to me today;

  I’m helpless, wondering whether it’s the same you,

  And now I’ve no idea how I should name you.

  Your cruelty takes away my wish to live,

  Your beauty tells me that I must forgive;

  It’s surely licit—if such beauty dares to—

  To take the life of anyone it cares to;

  You’re dawn’s light, I’m a sputtering lamp; it’s clear

  That lamps aren’t needed when the dawn is here.

  You are the moon if moons are sweetest things,

  If kings are two-faced, you’re the best of kings;

  Fire’s mouth will water at the distant sight

  Of your magnificently shining light,

  A garden’s full of flowers, and should it meet you,

  Your lovely charms would make it want to eat you,

  A silken ruby-colored cloak’s disgrace

  Is that it looks like straw beside your face,

  Your eyebrow’s curve is like the new moon’s when

  It shows a feast-day has come round again,

  Aloes and sandalwood are valueless

  Beside your face’s shining loveliness,

  Your pallid face that’s shadowed by your hair

  Shows China’s wealth and Africa’s are there.88

  How hard to separate oneself, to leave

  The loveliness of such a face and grieve,

  But I know nothing else that I can do

  Except to sacrifice my soul to you;

  I offer up my patience, and I wait

  To see which way my reins are tugged by Fate.”

  Majnun’s Father Goes to See His Son

  In fluent verse a Persian nobleman

  Renews the Arab story he began:

  *

  The father of Majnun groaned, brokenhearted,

  As Jacob did when Joseph had departed;

  Knowing Majnun was mad with love, no rest

  Or hope could now reside within his breast—

  Sighs punctuated his persistent pain,

  Life passed in expectation but in vain;

  Always he thought up schemes and plans, but then

  Washed Africans can’t change to Turkomen.89

  He spent vast sums, seeking him wildly, blindly,

  But Fate did not reward his efforts kindly

  And he lost hope of finding his mad son,

  And when he’d realized that all hope was gone

  He sat withdrawn, within a little room,

  Alone, expecting nothing but his tomb.

  But then he feared that death would come before

  He’d set out searching for his son once more,

  And in his old age, feeble now and weak,

  His voice so strangled he could hardly speak,

  He took his staff, and set off once again

  (This time accompanied by two young men),

  In search of his lost son, hoping that God

  Would look with favor on the path he trod.

  He went back to the rocks and fertile land,

  The green earth and the deserts of black sand,

  But though he went in hope, he saw no trace

  Of his lost sought-for son in any place.

 
But then he met a man who told him where

  A wretched outcast lived, not far from there,

  And that he’d find him in a grim defile,

  A dreadful place, repulsive, bleak, and vile,

  Like a foul grave, a lowering cloud, a pit

  Of fire, of oily flames and blackened grit.

  Traveling along the indicated way

  The old man hurried onward for a day,

  Then saw his son, frail and emaciated—

  His anguished heart was deeply agitated

  To see him in this state, bereft, alone,

  His scrawny body now mere skin and bone,

  Lost in an unreal world, and given over

  To being an idolatrous mad lover,

  A splinter stuck within a dream of dread,

  A hair a hair’s breadth’s space from being dead,

  More fretful than a scurrying searching hound,

  More hidden than dark demons underground.

  The cauldron of his body had boiled dry,

  His mind was too far gone to function by,

  Bareheaded, writhing like a snake, he wore

  A skin around his waist and nothing more.

  His father ventured close and sat beside him

  And gently stroked his head, and pacified him;

  Majnun, aware of someone near him weeping,

  Opened his eyes as though he had been sleeping

  And saw a man he didn’t recognize

  And started back from him in mute surprise.

  (How could he know another man when he

  No longer knew his own identity?)

  He questioned him: “What brings you here today?

  Leave me alone! Who are you? Go away!”

  The man said, “I’m your father, you’re my son,

  I’ve wept and longed for you since you’ve been gone.”

  And when Majnun saw who he was, he crept

  To him, and bowed down at his feet, and wept;

  Both wept together then, each kissed the other

  And whispered how he’d sorely missed the other.

  The father dried his eyes at last and then

  Examined this most miserable of men,

  And saw he was as naked as the way

  That all mankind will be on Judgment Day;

  He pulled fine garments from his bag, and put

  Them on his son, and clothed him head to foot,

  And from his turban to his shoes his son’s

  Attire was now as fine as anyone’s;

  Then as a father he began to give

  His son advice on how he ought to live.

  *

  “Now by your father’s soul this is no place