Layli and Majnun Page 8

  He was a wealthy, well-liked man, whose name

  Was Ebn Salam; he had a certain fame

  Among his fellow Arabs for good sense,

  Someone to watch, a man of consequence.

  And seeing that bright torch, he felt desire

  Like wind rush up in him to grasp this fire,

  Not thinking that when any fire is lit

  A wind is likely to extinguish it.

  When he reached home, he longed to be united

  With this bright moon, and have his love requited,

  Forgetting that no man could ever clasp

  The shining moon within his eager grasp.

  He set to work, and chose a messenger

  To ask if he might be betrothed to her,

  To have that fairy creature be his bride

  And brought within her litter to his side;

  He promised love, said he’d be dust before her,

  Pile gold like dust heaps (that’s how he’d adore her),

  Offered a thousand treasures, said that he’d

  Provide more livestock than they’d ever need.57

  The go-between arrived in hopes that he

  Could make a pact with Layli’s family

  On Ebn Salam’s behalf, as had been planned;

  He ceremonially kissed her father’s hand,

  Then set out the proposal that he’d brought

  Announcing Ebn Salam politely sought

  That he and their child Layli should be wed.

  And in reply young Layli’s parents said,

  “Your proposition is appropriate,

  But as things are at present we should wait,

  Layli’s unwell and weak; after a while

  She’ll be quite well again, and make us smile—

  That’s when the marriage plans can go ahead

  And sugar will be sprinkled as you’re wed;58

  This marriage will be good for all of us,

  Let’s hope it will be soon, and prosperous—

  But not quite yet, we need a small delay

  And after that we’ll have the happy day;

  The garden will be cleared of thorns; our rose

  Will flower, her budding petals will unclose;

  We’ll put a gold chain round her neck, and then

  She and the chain will both be yours. Amen!”

  So Ebn Salam was what he’d wished to be,

  A chosen suitor waiting patiently,

  Who rode home, now the dust of doubt was laid,

  Pleased with the promise Layli’s father’d made.59

  Nofal Sympathizes with Majnun

  Veiled Layli’s secret was now out, her name

  A bandied byword for disgrace and shame,

  And harps and lutes joined in, so that among

  Men everywhere the lovers’ tale was sung

  By sweet-voiced singers, whose beguiling art

  Enchanted each delighted listener’s heart;

  Confused now as her curls, poor Layli lay

  Alone, awake, as day succeeded day.

  *

  Majnun meandered through the wilderness,

  Sunk like his fate in tangled hopelessness,

  Chasing wild horses with a thousand pains

  While love songs in their thousands filled the plains.

  King-like, enthralled, he came to Najd, although

  In Najd he’d nothing kingly left to show;

  His feet were bruised by love, his heartfelt sighs

  Dispersed the pathway’s dust into the skies,

  Lovers who heard him struggling in love’s throes

  Would fall into despair and rend their clothes,

  And hearts that had seemed proof against attacks

  Now found their tempered steel had turned to wax.

  *

  Nofal was someone who by bravery

  Had boldly broadened his authority

  Until he’d rendered all the nearby land

  His own, subservient to his command:

  His sword could make an army flee in fear,

  In wrath a lion, in gentleness a deer,

  With many followers, magnificent,

  Wealthy, and in his wealth beneficent.

  Mounted upon a fearsome horse, one day

  This hunter sallied out in search of prey,

  Searching among the hillside caves he found

  A man whose moaning made the hills resound,

  With blistered feet, one beaten down by Fate,

  Far from his friends and in a wretched state,

  A wild man who it seemed was glad to shun

  Mankind and live apart from everyone,

  Singing such songs of anguish and complaint

  Whoever heard them would collapse and faint.

  Nofal inquired about this fugitive—

  What kind of man was he? How did he live?

  His fellow hunters said, “This started when

  He fell in love; he first grew sad, and then

  His sadness turned to madness—as you see,

  His mind’s surrendered to insanity.

  He sings his love songs night and day, and tries

  To catch his lover’s scent from windy skies,

  And if a breeze should bring her scent, he’ll make

  A hundred songs and verses for her sake,

  And clouds that come from where she lives he’ll greet

  With grateful poems that are sugar-sweet;

  And now he spends all day and every day

  In this sad way, and in no other way.

  Men come from far away to bring him wine

  And food—a thousand times he will decline

  Their generous gift, then finally he’ll take

  A single glass for his belovèd’s sake.”

  *

  When he had heard them out, Nofal replied,

  “It would be chivalrous if someone tried

  To help and comfort this unhappy man,

  And I’m determined to do all I can.

  It’s prey that I’ve been looking for today

  And now I’ve found some quite unlooked for prey!”

  Then lightly from his courser he alighted

  And had a little meal spread, and invited

  The poor emaciated wretch he’d found

  To eat, and sit beside him on the ground.

  He told sweet tales, his words were soft and warm

  Like pliant wax that takes on any form

  Though to his listener every tale he’d tell

  Appeared to be an empty useless shell—

  If it was not the tale of Layli he

  Was deaf to it, whatever it might be.

  *

  Nofal saw this young man would not partake

  Of any food for absent Layli’s sake,

  And gradually he changed the subject of

  His stories to sweet Layli and her love,

  So that the wild, sad wanderer became

  Peaceful and calm, distracted by her name,

  Delighted that he’d found a willing friend

  Whose talk of Layli seemed to have no end.

  His spirits rose and he began a song

  Of love that was both passionate and strong—

  With every line he laughed, completing it

  With sparks of unpremeditated wit;

  And then he didn’t hesitate to dine

  But gladly ate the food and drank the wine.

  *

  Nofal’s sweet eloquence, his charming chatter

  Made every problem seem a simple matter:

  “Don’t be a candle guttering as it dies


  Because she’s like a lamp in distant skies,”

  He said. “With gold or strength I shall not fail

  To make you both like two pans on a scale,

  Equal and side by side; if she’s a bird

  Desire will bring her down, you have my word,

  Instinct will grasp her by the neck, and then

  She will be brought back to the earth again;

  If she’s like sparks in flint, I will contrive,

  Like iron, to make those sparks leap out alive.

  My lariat won’t rest till at your side

  I see that lovely moon’s become your bride.”

  Majnun became so hopeful that he bowed

  His head in prayer, then spoke his thoughts aloud:

  “Your words are wonderful—that is, if you

  Are saying something that is really true.

  But then, her mother shouldn’t offer her

  To one like me of doubtful character;

  One shouldn’t leave a rose in windy weather

  Or pair a demon and the moon together,

  And it’s ridiculous to think that she

  Could ever wed a crazy fool like me.

  They’ve washed my filthy shirt, time after time,

  But they can’t wash away the dirt and grime,

  They’ve tried to silver-coat me and renew me

  But underlying blackness shows the true me;

  Your hand is generous, but what’s wrong with me

  Cannot be cured by generosity.

  I think that in the way of friendship you

  Will leave me when there’s still so much to do,

  Your hunt for her will be in vain, you’ll see

  She can’t be caught, and you’ll abandon me!

  We bluster like the wind, we puff and blow,

  But empty vessels . . . well, the rest you know.

  If you should keep your promise, may the Lord

  Make your life prosperous as your reward,

  But if your vow is just a mirage, you

  Should leave me, it’s the best thing you could do,

  And I’ll return to what I was before—

  Just as I was, and trouble you no more.”

  *

  Hearing how desperately he groaned and sighed,

  Nofal was quick to hurry to his side—

  Nofal, a young man with a noble mind,

  A stranger to Majnun, whose heart was kind

  (They were the same age, and this gallant stranger

  Pitied his grief and his condition’s danger).

  He swore by God, by all that He had wrought,

  And by the message that the Prophet brought:

  “My wealth and sword I shall devote to you

  Not as a wolf but as lion would do,

  From now on I shan’t eat or sleep or rest

  Till I’ve completed this praiseworthy quest—

  I’ll stay with you until I’ve seen you’re free

  From your bewilderment and misery.

  Sit now, be patient for a while, and start

  To calm the fire that rages in your heart,

  And meanwhile I’ll unbolt the iron door

  That leads to confrontation and to war.”

  To Majnun, then, this cordial seemed to be

  The drink to save his soul and sanity.

  His mind grew calmer, he was less afraid,

  He trusted in the vow his friend had made,

  And he was patient, pouring water on

  His inward fire till it was almost gone—

  His friend was his asylum, it was best

  For him to convalesce with him, and rest.

  *

  He bathed, and put clean clothing on, and chose

  An Arab turban to complete his clothes,

  Then sat together with his friend to dine

  And hear musicians play, and savor wine,

  And write sweet verses on the beauty of

  The sweet girl who commanded all his love.

  Well clothed, well fed, respectable again,

  He seemed to be the healthiest of men—

  His sallow face was pink and flushed, he stood

  Erect—not bowed now—as a young man should;

  His pitch-black perfumed beard encircled all

  His face again, grown thick and beautiful,

  It seemed the breeze both borrowed and then lent

  His breaths as they exhaled their rosy scent;

  He seemed a shining laughing dawn, and when

  He smiled the rising sun appeared again—

  The plants rejoiced, and as a wondrous sign

  Red roses glowed like goblets of red wine.

  Majnun grew sensible, intelligence

  Returned to him, and with it his good sense,

  And all the time his noble host expressed

  A hundred kinds of kindness to his guest—

  Away from him he knew no happiness

  And only drank to him and his success;

  So for two months they drank their wine, and spent

  Their time at ease, in negligent content.

  As day succeeded cheerful day these two

  Rejoiced, and happiness was all they knew.

  Sometimes Majnun would write a few lines of

  Protesting poems that condemned his love:

  “ ‘O you, beyond my bitter sighs and cries,

  Blowing my dust about with windy lies,

  You made a hundred vows you would be true—

  Not half of one of them was kept by you,

  Happy to have my promises, and yet

  Happy as well to have yourself forget,

  Leading me on with your deceitful heart,

  Leaving me restless once we had to part—

  Your tongue so glib then with each loving vow,

  Your tongue so chained up and so silent now;

  A hundred ways your tongue has wounded me,

  Your heart withholds its soothing remedy—

  My patience flees, my intellect is going,

  Save me, or where I’ll be there is no knowing.

  Should lovers show no love? Should they retract

  The promises they make each time they act?

  Though you’ve forgotten magnanimity

  True lovers act with generosity—

  To call someone who doesn’t keep her word

  A human being is to me absurd.’

  *

  “Without my friend I’m weak, in constant pain,

  Like one who craves life’s water, but in vain—

  Life’s water given to a man who craves it

  Is treasure for a ruined town that saves it:

  Bring Layli to me soon and I’ll revive,

  Without her though I know I won’t survive.”

  Nofal Fights Layli’s Tribe on Behalf of Majnun

  Reproved so charmingly, Nofal became

  As soft as wax before a roaring flame;

  At once he leaped up, put his armor on,

  And drew his sword, determined to be gone.

  He chose a hundred warriors, horsemen who

  Galloped as speedily as wild birds flew,

  And with them he set off without delay

  Like a black lion when it stalks its prey.

  As he neared Layli’s tribe a man was sent

  Ahead to spell out what his coming meant,

  To say, “I and my men have reached your lands

  To fight if need be for our just demands;

  Give Layli to us now; if not, our swords

  Are ready—we’re not here to bandy words—

  Gently I’ll
give her to one worthy of

  Her hand as he is worthy of her love,

  His thirst will then be slaked, his health restored,

  Which is a deed to gratify the Lord.”

  But when Nofal’s prompt messenger had spoken

  The glass of mutual respect was broken.

  They answered, “What you ask’s impossible,

  Our Layli is the moon when she is full—

  She’s not a cake for you to feast upon!

  Who steals the moon? Not you, nor anyone!

  We’ll kill your slashing swordsmen, we’ll drive back

  With stones your spearmen if they dare attack!”

  The messenger repeated every word,

  Telling Nofal each syllable he’d heard—

  Furious, Nofal insisted he retrace

  His steps back to the former meeting place

  And say, “You senseless fools, you’d better be

  Prepared to fight a breaking wave or flee.”

  Once more the messenger returned, once more

  He brought back insults as he’d done before.

  Nofal flared like a fire then to engage

  The enemy, so violent was his rage—

  He drew his sword and with his cavalry

  Fell like a lion on the enemy.

  *

  Like mountains then the two sides clashed, and cries

  Of violent rage rose up into the skies

  As Nofal’s enemies received the lion

  With drawn swords like a barricade of iron.

  The battlefield became a sea that rose

  And fell with surging battle-cries and blows,

  As blood shed by sharp swords dripped down and sank

  Into the earth made drunk by what it drank.

  Warriors’ massed lances held off the attack

  Until by lions they were beaten back,

  And feathered arrows swooped like birds that kill

  With thirsty beaks and drink the blood they spill.

  Swords lopped off horses’ heads, and on the ground

  Chieftains’ and horses’ heads lay scattered round—

  The yells of horsemen rose into the skies

  Till sun and skies were deafened by their cries,

  And when death’s thunderbolt crashed down, the shock

  Struck even iron ore concealed in rock,

  Catastrophe’s sharp lance, its honed point like

  A crowbar’s hair-thin head, prepared to strike,

  And earth became a sea of surging blood,

  Its stones like stars that rose above the flood.

  Black horses reared like lions on each side,

  Or like black snakes whose mouths gaped open wide,

  Like black lions in their fury, and like white