Layli and Majnun Read online

  That wreck our reputation as he sings—

  His sighs are hurting Layli, and his breath

  Will give not life to Layli’s flame but death.

  He’s like a goat, so drive him off like one—

  Then we can start to mend the harm he’s done!”

  And when he’d heard them out, their warlike chief—

  A violent, quarrelsome, hard-bitten thief—

  Drew his bright sword and with a gruesome cry

  Yelled, “If he’s shamed us, this is our reply!”

  Someone from Qais’s family heard their plan

  And quickly hurried to inform his clan

  What he had heard, saying to Amiri,

  “Prevent what could become a tragedy,

  Their chief is fierce as fire, tumultuous

  As flooding water, brutal, rancorous;

  I fear that if Majnun’s not heard the news

  He’s after him that it’s his head he’ll lose;

  A dangerous chasm yawns before Majnun—

  We have to bring him home again, and soon!”

  You can imagine how the father of

  Majnun responded with paternal love,

  And set out riding like the wind to find him

  Telling his friends to follow close behind him,

  Hoping they’d find the suffering lad, and then

  Gently and safely bring him home again.

  This way and that they searched, but found no trace

  Of Amiri’s sad son in any place.

  They said, “Perhaps death’s overtaken him,

  Or some wild beast has torn him limb from limb.”

  His fellow tribesmen mourned for him, and sighed,

  Unsure if he had wandered off or died;

  His family wept that nothing could be found

  To show Majnun was dead or safe and sound.

  *

  For her part Layli waited patiently

  Like a loved treasure hidden secretly,

  Withdrawn from all the business going on,

  Secluded, and ignoring everyone,

  Watching the road, hoping to see dust rise

  Above their hunting grounds and cloud the skies.33

  *

  Better to be a fox whose belly’s full

  Than be a mighty wolf that’s vulnerable;34

  A hawk that’s eaten well will have no need

  To envy other creatures when they feed,

  And mounting hunger makes sour food taste sweet—

  What was disgusting now seems good to eat,

  But when we’re sick, sweet halva’s like a curse,

  A poisoned food that only makes things worse.

  *

  Majnun was hungry, and he searched the ground

  For anything to eat that could be found,

  Forced by necessity to forage for

  Food he’d have thought inedible before.

  But in his suffering he remained content,

  Hardship was not a burden to resent

  Since it was like a promise that he’d be

  Freed from his self35 and its captivity;

  He sought and suffered, though no suffering brought

  Within his grasp the treasure that he sought.

  *

  But like an omen from a favoring sky

  A member of the Bani Ma’d passed by

  And saw him sprawled out on the desert sand,

  A ravaged body in a ravaged land.

  The man who’s far from home, companionless,

  Who has no friend to share in his distress,

  No intimate with whom to pass the time,

  Is like a line of verse without a rhyme,

  His only friends his echoed cries that chide him,

  His confidant his shadow’s length beside him,

  While like an archer his misfortune notches

  An arrow to the string, and waits and watches.

  The traveler recognized him as a man

  Of some importance, from a noble clan,

  And questioned him, but in response he heard

  Not one consistent or coherent word,

  And gradually gave up attempts to sound him

  And traveled on, and left him where he’d found him.

  He visited the young man’s tribe, and said

  He’d seen a man among the rocks, half dead,

  And writhing like a snake, crazed in his mind,

  Like a wild demon hiding from mankind,

  At death’s door, sprawled among the desert stones,

  The marrow poking through his brittle bones.

  *

  His father heard the news and left in haste

  His tribe and homeland for the desert waste;

  Scouring each cave and cleft, he stumbled on

  In his demonic search to find his son—

  And then he saw him in a fissure, prone

  And slumped down, with his head upon a stone,

  And singing to himself and sometimes groaning,

  Sighing from time to time and softly moaning,

  And in his bloodshot eyes he saw tears well

  And fall as quickly as his fortunes fell,36

  So drunk within his dream, and so far gone,

  He seemed oblivious of everyone.

  But when he saw his searching father, he

  Greeted him cordially and gratefully,

  Then seeing how severe he looked, he bowed

  Before him like his shadow, shocked and cowed,

  And said, “O crown and scepter of my soul,

  Forgive my feeble loss of self-control;

  Don’t question me, you see my wretched state,

  Ascribe my desolation to my fate.

  How can I bear to face you in this way,

  And see you see me here on such a day?

  I am ashamed you’re here, how can your son

  Plead for forgiveness for the things he’s done?

  You’re well aware of how the matter stands,

  My future is no longer in my hands.”

  Majnun’s Father Advises His Son

  And when the father saw his son, he sighed

  And snatched his turban off, and loudly cried

  (As roosters do to greet the morning light),

  Since their disgrace had changed his day to night.

  He said, “Dear son, so wretched and forlorn,

  Like a young rose whose petals are all torn,

  Poor lovesick child, how you lament and grieve,

  How burnt by love you are, and how naïve!

  The evil eye has marred your charm, some curse

  Has battered you and made your sickness worse,

  Soaking your flesh with blood like this, and tearing

  With prickly spines and thorns the clothes you’re wearing.

  You’ve given up on life, for what, and why,

  What thorn is this that’s festering in your eye?

  Men suffer harm, but not as you have done,

  And hardships come, but not like yours, my son;

  You never rest from grieving, or from hearing

  Your enemies’ derisive taunts and sneering—

  Hasn’t their ridicule yet shaken you,

  Doesn’t their noisy scorn awaken you?

  Forget this passion, it’s dishonored me

  And robbed you of your name and dignity—

  The way you sweat and fret and make a fuss

  About such trifles is ridiculous.

  A friend should offer wise admonishment

  Even for faults that are self-evident,

  An honest friend can point things out
, he makes

  You want to rid yourself of your mistakes,

  He’s like a mirror showing you a room

  So that you see the spots that need a broom.

  Sit down, and free your heart from sorrow’s hold;

  It’s no good beating iron when it’s cold!

  I see you haven’t got the patience to

  Be patient when no friends are close to you,

  So visit us, don’t stay away so long,

  Come home more often, stay where you belong—

  The heart’s desires entice men who knows where

  And then abandon them to their despair;

  Be drunk, but not from wine, seek something higher,

  And love desire while feeling no desire.37

  You’ve let winds blow this scandal far and wide

  And I’m the man our enemies deride;

  Our hopes are coins, and yours is counterfeit,

  It’s useless to you, so get rid of it.

  You sing your songs, I slap my thighs,38 I tear

  My soul apart, you rip the clothes you wear.

  If love has lit a fire that’s burnt your heart

  Your burning love has torn my guts apart.

  But don’t despair of finding some way out—

  Just sow the seed and soon you’ll see it sprout.

  Things that you think won’t work may well produce

  A hopeful outcome that can be of use,

  There’s hope still in what seems the darkest night

  Since every night concludes with morning’s light.

  Spend time with those whose lives are fortunate,

  Shun what has left you in this wretched state,

  But keep ahold of wealth; when wealth is present

  Your heart knows happiness, and life is pleasant.

  Good Fortune unties knots, solves everything,

  And is the turquoise in God’s signet ring,

  While anyone it favors finds that he

  Is overwhelmed with wealth perpetually.

  Be patient, seek for patience, nourish it,

  And watch Good Fortune find you, bit by bit;

  The sea that is so wide consists of drops

  Uniting in a flow that never stops,

  And that high mountain in the clouds is just

  A vast accretion of small stones and dust;

  Be patient, and you’ll find that jewels are found

  Slowly but surely, hidden in the ground.

  Resourceful’s better than robust and firm,

  A man without resources is a worm—

  A fox can manage things a wolf won’t try,

  The wolf is stronger, but the fox is sly.

  Why would you give your heart to someone who

  For years and years would never think of you,

  She like a rose, you stuck in mud, her heart

  The heavy stone that tears your life apart?

  If people mention Layli’s name to you

  It means that they’re imputing shame to you—

  And when they stop, they’re thinking well of you,

  There’s nothing shameful left to tell of you.

  This constant moping is a poisonous thing,

  It’s drinking celery for a scorpion’s sting.39

  Come on, my boy, busy yourself, and find

  Something to occupy your lovesick mind;

  An elephant needs prodding to forget

  His Indian home on which his mind is set.

  Dear boy, of all that’s dear to me most dear,

  Stay with your family now, stop living here—

  Apart from bringing you disgrace, my son,

  What has your wandering in these mountains done?

  Pitfalls and rocks make up the treacherous way here,

  Why should you ever want to come or stay here!

  Don’t argue, there’s a watchman watching you,

  Chains and an iron door you can’t get through.

  You’re like a child in this—look where you tread,

  Watch Deceit’s sword, and see you keep your head!

  With friends enjoy yourself, do as you please,

  Be happy, and annoy your enemies!”

  Majnun’s Reply to His Father

  Majnun’s sweet lips sought words then to suffice

  As answers to his father’s sweet advice.

  He said to him, “O glorious heaven I love

  More than the glories of the heavens above,

  Lord of the campsites of our wandering race,

  Sweet mole of beauty on the Arab face,

  It is to you I pray, my being lives

  Within the blessings that your being gives,

  I pray you live forever, and that I

  Should not remain alive when you must die.

  Your wise words are a treasury, a balm

  To make my desperate fevers cool and calm;

  What can I do, though, fallen in this place

  Unmindful of myself, in deep disgrace

  (As you well know), distracted and unable

  To rule myself, unsettled and unstable?

  I’m chained with iron chains, and what can aid me

  When I can only be what Fate has made me?

  Love’s bonds won’t open of themselves, love’s weight

  Can’t be sloughed off once it’s ordained by Fate—

  I weep that I must suffer so, but all

  My efforts not to are contemptible.

  This searing thunderbolt could easily

  Destroy a thousand others just like me;

  Not only I have suffered, who is there

  Who’s not seen hundreds gripped by this despair?

  No pit decides it should be dark, likewise

  The moon does not decide when it must rise,

  From ants to elephants there is no creature

  Who’s not compelled in some way by its nature.

  If life went always as we wish, who would

  Seek anything but what’s desired and good?

  My heartfelt grief would make hard granite melt,

  Who’d willingly endure the grief I’ve felt?

  Misfortune’s marked me for her own; what man

  Can drive off his misfortune? No one can!

  If this way’s travelers could be helped, I’d be

  The sun or moon in heaven for all to see!

  Whatever deeds are done, for good or ill,

  They’re not within the compass of our will—

  Who’d choose to live a life like mine, hard-pressed

  By love’s disaster, weary and depressed,

  Self-wounded in this way, confused, perplexed,

  Incessantly preoccupied and vexed?

  I let no laugh escape my lips, if I

  So much as smile I fear I’d burn and die;

  ‘Why don’t you laugh?’ men say. ‘Tears indicate

  A soul that’s in a melancholy state.’

  But I’m afraid my laugh would be a flame

  That burned my mouth, and brought me only shame.

  A partridge caught an ant once in its beak,

  The wretch’s prospects couldn’t be more bleak;

  The ant began to laugh immoderately

  And cried, ‘Hey, partridge, can you laugh like me?’

  The partridge thought, ‘What question could be dafter,

  When I’m a bird that’s famous for my laughter?’40

  And so he laughed, his great beak opened wide . . .

  Out hopped the ant, and scuttled off to hide.

  A man who laughs out loud finds as a rule

  He’s not considered clever but a fool,

&
nbsp; And misplaced laughter’s more contemptible

  Than endless tears wept by the bucketful.

  Torture and pain are mine, frivolity

  Is never going to help or comfort me.

  A donkey that’s grown old will carry on

  Bearing its burdens till its life is done,

  The only time its sufferings ever cease

  Is when death comes at last, and it’s at peace;

  Don’t say my love’s a new-grown irksome thorn,

  This thorn has grown in me since I was born;

  Better a swordsman fight and lose his head

  Than be a coward who has flinched and fled.

  Love is no state for fearing thorns; regret

  For lovers comes when thorns are not a threat!

  A lover does not fear his fear, or fear

  To fight with any foes who might appear,

  And if my soul should fall in fire, I’d be

  Cheered by the prospect of such agony.

  My soul is so far gone, so broken, so unfit

  For anything, what can you want from it?”

  *

  Majnun had told his tale, his father’d heard

  His son’s account, and wept at every word;

  Here on one side the father sat down sighing,

  There on the other side his son lay crying.

  *

  His father took him home again, and gave him

  Into his friends’ hands, hoping they could save him;

  Majnun—lovelorn, grief-stricken—for his part

  Tried to be patient, but it broke his heart.

  For two days he endured such misery

  That all who saw him wept with sympathy,

  But then he burst from his confinement, sighed,

  And in his frenzy pushed his way outside,

  Running toward the foothills and the plain,

  Eager to live at liberty again,

  Though all his life was weakness, pain, and crying,

  Not life so much as an extended dying.

  Feverish with burning love, fervent and hot,

  He made for Najd,41 to him a sacred spot,

  And reached there like a raging, warlike lion,

  Striding and strutting as if shod with iron.

  *

  And as he went he sang in plangent strains

  Love songs that told of all his lovelorn pains,

  So that men gathered round the mountainside

  To hear his songs that rang out far and wide,

  Eager to hear such wonders and collect them,

  And write them down so that they’d recollect them—

  And so, in time, these echoes of his voice

  Made other lovers marvel and rejoice.