Whence this estrangement and despite, beloved of my soul?
Whither have kindliness and love between us taken flight?
What makes thee with aversion turn from me? Indeed, thy face Is
not the face I used to know, when we our troth did plight.
Belike, the slanderers have made a false report of me, And thou
inclin’dst to them, and they redoubled in despite.
If thou believedst their report, far, far it should have been
From thee, that art too whole of wit at such a bait to
bite!
Yea, I conjure thee by thy life, tell me what thou hast heard:
For lo! thou knowest what was said and wilt not do
unright.
If aught I’ve said that angered thee, a speech of change
admits; Ay, and interpreting, I trow, may change its
meaning quite,
Were it a word sent down from God; for even the Pentateuch Hath
falsified and garbled been of this and th’ other
wight.
Whilst, as for lies, how many were of folk before us told!
Joseph to Jacob was traduced and blackened in his sight.
Yea, for the slanderer and myself and thee, an awful day Of
standing up shall come, when God to judgment all shall
cite.
Then she sealed the letter and gave it to me. I took it and carried it to the house of Jubeir ben Umeir, whom I found absent hunting. So I sat down, to wait for him, and presently he returned; and when I saw him come riding up, my wit was confounded by his beauty ands grace. As soon as he saw me sitting at the door, he dismounted and coming up to me, saluted and embraced me; and meseemed I embraced the world and all that therein is. Then he carried me into his house and seating me on his own couch, called for food. So they brought a table of khelenj wood of Khorassan, with feet of gold, whereon were all manner of meats, fried and roasted and the like. So I seated myself at the table and examining it, found the following verses engraved upon it:
Weep for the cranes that erst within the porringers did lie And
for the stews and partridges evanished heave a sigh!
Mourn for the younglings of the grouse; lament unceasingly, As,
for the omelettes and the fowls browned in the pan, do I.
How my heart yearneth for the fish that, in its different
kinds, Upon a paste of wheaten flour, lay hidden in the
pie!
Praised be God for the roast meat, as in the dish it lay, With
pot-herbs, soaked in vinegar, in porringers hard by,
And eke the rice with buffaloes’ milk dressed and made savoury,
Wherein the hands were plunged and arms were buried
bracelet high!
O soul, I rede thee patient be, for God is bountiful: What
though thy fortunes straitened be, His succour’s ever
nigh.
Then said Jubeir, “Put thy hand to our food and ease our heart by eating of our victual.” “By Allah,” answered I, “I will not eat a mouthful, till thou grant me my desire.” “What is thy desire?” asked he. So I brought out the letter and gave it to him; but, when he had read it, he tore it into pieces and throwing it on the floor, said to me, “O Ibn Mensour, I will grant thee whatever thou askest, save this that concerns the writer of this letter, for I have no answer to make to her.” At this, I rose in anger; but he caught hold of my skirts, saying, “O Ibn Mensour, I will tell thee what she said to thee, for all I was not present with you.” “And what did she say to me?” asked I. “Did she not say to thee,” rejoined he, “‘If thou bring me back an answer, thou shalt have of me five hundred dinars; and if not, a hundred for thy pains?’” “Yes,” answered I; and he said, “Abide with me this day and eat and drink and make merry, and thou shalt have five hundred dinars.”
So I sat with him and ate and drank and made merry and entertained him with converse; after which I said to him, “O my master, is there no music in thy house?” “Indeed,” answered he, “we have drunk this long while without music.” Then he called out, saying, “Ho, Shejeret ed Durr!” Whereupon a slave-girl answered him from her chamber and came in to us, with a lute of Indian make, wrapped in a silken bag. She sat down and laying the lute in her lap, preluded in one-and-twenty modes, then, returning to the first, sang the following verses to a lively measure:
Who hath not tasted the sweet and the bitter of passion, I
trow, The presence of her whom he loves from her absence
he hardly shall know.
So he, from the pathway of love who hath wandered and fallen
astray, The smooth knoweth not from the rough of the
roadway, wherein he doth go.
I ceased not the votaries of love and of passion to cross and
gainsay, Till I too must taste of its sweet and its
bitter, its gladness and woe.
Then I drank a full draught of the cup of its bitters, and
humbled was I, and thus to the bondman of Love and its
freedman therein was brought low.
How many a night have I passed with the loved one, carousing
with him, Whilst I drank from his lips what was sweeter
than nectar and colder than snow!
How short was the life of the nights of our pleasance! It
seemed to us still, No sooner was night fallen down than
the daybreak to eastward did glow.
But Fortune had vowed she would sever our union and sunder our
loves; And now, in good sooth, she her vow hath
accomplished. Fate ordered it so;
Fate ordered it thus, and against its ordaining, appeal there
is none; For who shall gainsay a supreme one’s
commandments or causes him forego?
Hardly had she made an end of these verses, when Jubeir gave a great cry and fell down in a swoon; whereupon, “May God not punish thee, O old man!” exclaimed the damsel. “This long time have we drunk without music, for fear the like of this should befall our master. But go now to yon chamber and sleep there.” So I went to the chamber in question and slept till the morning, when a page brought me a purse of five hundred dinars and said to me, “This is what my master promised thee; but return thou not to her who sent thee and let it be as if neither thou nor we had heard of this affair.” “I hear and obey,” answered I and taking the purse, went my way.
However, I said in myself, “The lady will have expected me since yesterday; and by Allah, I must needs return to her and tell her what passed between me and him; or she will curse me and all who come from my country.” So I went to her and found her standing behind the door; and when she saw me, she said, “O Ibn Mensour, thou hast gotten me nought.” “Who told thee of this?” asked I; and she answered, “O Ibn Mensour, yet another thing hath been revealed to me; and it is that, when thou gavest hum the letter, he tore it in pieces and throwing it on the floor, said to thee, ‘O Ibn Mensour, ask me anything but what relates to the writer of this letter; for I have no reply to make to her.’ Then didst thou rise from beside him in anger; but he laid hold of thy skirts, saying, ‘Abide with me to-day, for thou art my guest, and eat and drink and make merry; and thou shalt have five hundred dinars.’ So thou didst sit with him, eating and drinking and making merry, and entertainedst him with converse; and a slave-girl sand such an air and such verses, whereupon he fell down in a swoon.” Quoth I, “Wast thou then with us?” “O Ibn Mensour,” replied she, “hast thou not heard the saying of the poet:
The heart of the lover hath eyes, well I wot, That see what the eyes of beholders see not.
But,” added she, “day and night alternate not upon aught, but they change it.” Then she raised her eyes to heaven and said, “O my God and my Master and my Lord, like as Thou hast afflicted me with love of Jubeir ben Umeir, even so do Thou afflict him with love of me and transfer the passion from my heart to his!” Then she gave me a hun
dred dinars for my pains and I took it and returned to the palace, when I found the Sultan come back from hunting; so I took my pension of him and made my way back to Baghdad.
Next year, I repaired to Bassora, as usual, to seek my pension, and the Sultan paid it to me; but as I was about to return to Baghdad, I bethought me of the lady Budour and said to myself, “By Allah, I must needs go and see what hath befallen between her and her lover!” So I went to her house and finding the porch swept and sprinkled and slaves and servants and pages standing before the door, said to myself, “Most like grief hath broken the lady’s heart and she is dead, and some Amir or other hath taken up his abode in her house.” So I went on to Jubeir’s house, where I found the benches of the porch broken down and no pages at the door, as of wont, and said to myself, “Belike he too is dead.” Then I took up my station before the door of his house and with my eyes running over with tears, bemoaned it in the following verses:
Lords, that are gone, but whom my heart doth evermore ensue,
Return; so shall my festal says return to me with you.
I stand before your sometime stead, bewailing your abodes, With
quivering lids, from which the tears rain down, like
summer dew.
Weeping, I question of the house and ruins, “Where is he Who
was the source of benefits and bounties ever new?”
[They answer] “Go thy ways, for those thou lov’st from the
abode Departed are and neath the dust are buried; so
adieu!”
May God not stint us of the sight [in dreams] of all their
charms Nor be their noble memories aye absent from men’s
view!
As I was thus bewailing the folk of the house, there came a black slave thereout and said to me, “Hold thy peace, O old man! May thy mother be bereft of thee! What ails thee to bemoan the house thus?” Quoth I, “I knew it of yore, when it belonged to a good friend of mine.” “What was his name?” asked the slave. And I answered, “Jubeir ben Umeir the Sheibani.” “And what hath befallen him?” rejoined he. “Praised be God, he is yet in the enjoyment of wealth and rank and prosperity, except that God hath stricken him with love of a damsel called the lady Budour; and he is overcome with love of her, that, for the violence of his passion and torment, he is like a great rock overthrown. If he hunger, he saith not, ‘Feed me;’ nor, if he thirst, doth he say, ‘Give me to drink.’” Quoth I, “Ask leave me to go in to him.” “O my lord,” said the slave, “Wilt thou go in to him who understands or to him who understands not?” “I must needs see him, whatever be his case,” answered I.
Se he went in and presently returned with permission for me to enter, whereupon I went in to Jubeir and found him like a rock overthrown, understanding neither sign nor speech. I spoke to him, but he answered me not; and one of his servants said to me, “O my lord, if thou know aught of verse, repeat it, and raise thy voice; and he will be aroused by this and speak with thee.” So I recited the following verses:
Budour’s love hast thou forgotten or art deaf still to her
sighs? Wak’st anights, or do thine eyelids close upon thy
sleeping eyes?
If thy tears flow fast and freely, night and day long, torrent-
wise, Know thou, then, that thou shalt sojourn evermore in
Paradise.
When he heard this, he opened his eyes and said, “Welcome, O Ibn Mensour! Verily, the jest is become earnest.” “O my lord,” said I, “is there aught thou wouldst have me do for thee?” “Yes,” answered he; “I would fain write her a letter and send it to her by thee. If thou bring me back an answer, thou shalt have of me a thousand dinars; and if not, two hundred for thy pains.” “Do what seemeth good to thee,” said I. So he called to one of his slave-girls for inkhorn and paper and wrote the following verses:
By Allah, O my lady, have ruth on me, I pray! For all my wit by
passion is ravished quite away.
Yea, love for thee and longing have mastered me and clad With
sickness and bequeathed me abjection and dismay.
Aforetime, O my lady, by love I set small store And deemed it
light and easy to bear, until to-day;
But now that Love hath shown me the billows of its sea, Those I
excuse, repenting, who languish neath its sway.
Vouchsafe thy grace to grant me; or, if thou wilt me slay, At
least, then, for thy victim forget thou not to pray.
Then he sealed the letter and gave it to me. I took it and repairing to Budour’s house, raised the curtain of the door, little by little, as of wont, and looking in, saw ten damsels, high-bosomed maids, like moons, and the lady Budour sitting in their midst, as she were the full moon among stars or the sun, when it is clear of clouds; nor was there on her any trace of pain or care. As I looked and marvelled at her case, she turned and seeing me standing at the gate, said to me, “Welcome and fair welcome to thee, O Ibn Mensour! Come in.” So I entered and saluting her, gave her the letter. She read it and laughing, said to me, “O Ibn Mensour, the poet lied not when he said:
The love of thee I will endure with patient constancy, Till such time as a messenger shall come to me from thee.
O Ibn Mensour,” added she, “I will write thee an answer that he may give thee what he promised thee.” “May God requite thee with good!” answered I. So she called for inkhorn and paper and wrote the following verses:
How comes it my vows I fulfilled and thou, thou wast false to
thy plight? Thou sawst me do justice and truth, and yet
thou thyself didst unright.
’Twas thou that begannest on me with rupture and rigour, I
trow; ’Twas thou that play’dst foul, and with thee began
the untruth and the slight.
Yea, still I was true to my troth and cherished but thee among
men And ceased not thine honour to guard and keep it
unsullied and bright,
Till tidings of fashions full foul I heard, as reported of
thee, And saw with mine eyes what thou didst, to harm me
and work me despite.
Shall I then abase my estate, that thine may exalted become? By
God, hadst thou generous been, the like should thy conduct
requite!
So now unto solace I’ll turn my heart, with forgetting, from
thee And washing my hands of thy thought, blot despair for
thee out of my spright.
“By Allah, O my lady,” said I, “there needs but the reading of this letter, to kill him!” So I tore it in pieces and said to her, “Write him other than this.” “I hear and obey,” answered she and wrote the following:
Indeed, I am consoled and sleep is pleasant to mine eyes; For I
have heard what came of prate of slanderers and spies.
My heart my summons hath obeyed, thee to forget; and eke My
lids to stint from wake for thee have seen it good and
wise.
He lies who says that severance is bitterness; for me I find
its taste none otherwise than sweet; indeed he lies.
I’ve grown to turn away from those who bring me news of thee
And look upon it as a thing at which my gorge doth rise.
Behold, I have forgotten thee with every part of me. Let then
the spy and who will else this know and recognise.
“By Allah, O my lady,” said I, “when he reads these verses, his soul will depart his body!” “O Ibn Mensour,” quoth she, “is passion indeed come to such a pass with him as thou sayst?” “Had I said more than this,” replied I, “it were but the truth: but clemency is of the nature of the noble.” When she heard this, her eyes filled with tears and she wrote him a letter, O Commander of the Faithful, there is none in thy court could avail to write the like of it; and therein were these verses:
How long shall this despite continue and this pride? My enviers’
spite on me thou sure hast satisfied.
Mayhap, I did amiss and knew it not; so tell Me what thou heardst
of me, that did our loves divide.
Even as I welcome sleep unto mine eyes and lids, So would I
welcome thee, beloved, to my side.
I’ve quaffed the cup of love for thee, unmixed and pure; So, if
thou see me drunk, reproach me not nor chide.
Then she sealed it and gave it to me; and I said, “O my lady, this thy letter will heal the sick and ease the thirsting soul.” Then I took it and was going away, when she called me back and said to me, “Tell me that I will be his guest this night.” At this I rejoiced greatly and carried the letter to Jubeir, whom I found with his eyes fixed on the door, expecting the reply. I gave him the letter and he opened and read it, then gave a great cry and fell down in a swoon. When he came to himself, he said to me, “O Ibn Mensour, did she indeed write this letter with her hand and touch it with her fingers?” “O my lord,” answered I, “do folk write with their feet?” And by Allah, O Commander of the Faithful, I had not done speaking, when we heard the chink of her anklets in the vestibule and she entered.
When he saw her, he sprang to his feet, as thou there ailed him nought, and embraced her as the letter Lam embraces Alif, and the malady, that would not depart, ceased from him. Then he sat down, but she abode standing and I said to her, “O my lady, why dost thou not sit?” Quoth she, “I will not sit, O Ibn Mensour, save on a condition that is between us.” “And what is that?” asked I. “None may know lovers’ secrets,” answered she and putting her mouth to Jubeir’s ear, whispered to him; whereupon, “I hear and obey,” replied he and rising, said somewhat privily to one of his slaves, who went out and returned, in a little, with a Cadi and two witnesses. Then Jubeir rose and taking a bag containing a hundred thousand dinars, said, “O Cadi, marry me to this young lady and write this sum to her dowry.” Quoth the Cadi to her, “Say, ‘I consent to this.’” “I consent to this,” said she, whereupon he drew up the contract of marriage, and she opened the bag and taking out a handful of gold, gave it to the Cadi and the witnesses and handed the rest to Jubeir.
Then the Cadi and the witnesses withdrew, and I sat with them, in mirth and delight, till the most part of the night was past, when I said in myself, “These are lovers and have been this long while separated. I will go now and sleep in some place afar from them and leave them to be private, one with the other.” So I rose, but she laid hold of my skirts, saying, “What thinkest thou to do?” “So and so,” answered I. But she rejoined, “Sit still, when we would be rid of thee, we will send thee away.” So I sat with them till near daybreak, when she said to me, “O Ibn Mensour, go to yonder chamber; for we have furnished it for thee, and it is thy sleeping-place.” So I went thither and slept till morning, when a page brought me basin and ewer, and I made the ablution and prayed the morning-prayer. Then I sat down and presently, Jubeir and his mistress came out of the bath in the house, wringing their locks.
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