The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights: Volume 1

by Penguin; Robert Irwin; Malcolm Lyons; Ursula Lyons

  I invoke greetings from the stores of God’s grace

  On her who holds my soul and has my heart.

  He also wrote:

  Give me some word from you, for it may be

  That you will pity me or bring me rest.

  The violence of my love for you makes me despise

  What I experience, which is that I am despised.

  God guard a people who are far from me,

  But whose love I conceal in my most precious part.

  Time has been gracious to me now,

  Throwing me in the dust at my beloved’s door.

  I saw Budur in the bed at my side

  With the moon of my age illumined by her sun.

  When he had sealed the letter, he wrote in place of an address:

  Ask my letter about what I have written;

  Its lines will tell you of my passion and my pain.

  My hand writes as my tears flow down,

  And longing complains to the paper through my pen.

  My tears continue to pour out;

  If they come to an end, my blood will follow them.

  At the end of the letter he wrote:

  I have sent your ring,

  Which I exchanged on the day of union,

  So send me back my own.

  Qamar al-Zaman then put Budur’s ring in the folded paper and handed it to the eunuch, who took it from him and brought it in to his mistress…

  Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and fifth night, SHE CONTINUED:

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that Qamar al-Zaman then put Budur’s ring in the folded paper and handed it to the eunuch, who took it from him and brought it in to his mistress, the princess. When she had taken it from him and opened it, she found that it contained her own ring. After reading the message and grasping its meaning, she realized that here was her beloved and that he was standing behind the curtain. Her heart bounded with joy, swelling with relief and delight, and she recited:

  I regretted that we had been parted,

  With tears that flooded from my eyelids;

  I vowed, if Time would join us once again,

  The word ‘parting’ would never cross my lips.

  Now joy has launched itself on me,

  And is so great that it has made me cry.

  Tears have become so natural to my eyes

  That both sorrow and joy can make them flow.

  When she had finished, she got up immediately and, after planting her feet against the wall, she strained with all her strength against the iron ring, snapping it from her neck and breaking the chain. She then came out from behind the curtain and threw herself on Qamar al-Zaman, kissing him on the mouth like a dove feeding its young, and embracing him in an ecstasy of passion. ‘Master,’ she said, ‘am I awake or dreaming? After our separation has God allowed us to be near each other? Praise be to Him that we are united after our despair.’

  When the eunuch saw what was happening, he ran to the king and, having kissed the ground before him, he said: ‘Master, know that this astrologer is the chief and the most learned of all his fellows. He managed to cure your daughter while standing behind the curtain, without going into her room.’ ‘Take care,’ said the king. ‘Is this true?’ And the eunuch replied: ‘Come and see for yourself how she found the strength to break the iron chain and go out to the astrologer, kissing and embracing him.’ The king rose and went to his daughter who, when she saw him, got up, covered her head and recited:

  I do not love the word ‘tooth-pick’;

  When I pronounce it, it seems ‘other than you’.*

  The ‘arak tree, however, I do love

  Since, when I say the word, it is: ‘I can see you.’†

  The king was almost beside himself with joy at her recovery. He kissed her between the eyes, so great was his love for her, and then, turning to Qamar al-Zaman, he asked him about himself and from what land he came. Qamar al-Zaman told him of his birth and status, saying that his father was King Shahriman. He then went through the story from beginning to end, telling the king of all that had happened to him with the princess and of how he had taken the ring from her finger, exchanging it for his own. The king was astonished by this and said: ‘The story of the two of you ought to be recorded in books and recited from generation to generation after you have gone.’

  He then immediately summoned the qadis and the witnesses and drew up the marriage contract between Princess Budur and Qamar al-Zaman. On his orders, the city was adorned with decorations for seven days; food was set out on tables; wedding celebrations were held; and, as the city was adorned, so all the troops wore their most splendid clothes. Drums were beaten to spread the good news. When Qamar al-Zaman came to Budur, her father was delighted both by her recovery and by her marriage, praising God that she had fallen in love with a handsome young prince. She was then unveiled for her bridegroom and they were seen to be alike in loveliness, grace and elegance. Qamar al-Zaman slept with her that night, having his way with her, while she satisfied her longing in the enjoyment of his beauty. They continued to embrace one another until morning, and on the next day the king gave a banquet for the whole population of the inner and outer islands. Tables were laden with splendid foods and the feasting went on for a whole month.

  Then, after Qamar al-Zaman had successfully achieved his heart’s desire and had spent some time with the princess, he remembered his father, King Shahriman. He saw the king in a dream, saying: ‘My son, is this how you treat me?’ and reciting these lines:

  The full moon of night alarms me and turns away,

  Leaving my eyes to herd the stars.

  Go slowly, heart; he may come back to me;

  Endure, my soul, the burning pain he leaves.

  The morning after Qamar al-Zaman had seen his father reproaching him in a dream, he was distressed and sorrowful, and when Budur asked him, he told her what he had seen…

  Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and sixth night, SHE CONTINUED:

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that Qamar al-Zaman told Budur what he had seen in his dream. The two of them then went to her father and told him of this, asking his permission to leave. He gave this to Qamar al-Zaman and when Budur told him that she could not be separated from her husband, he told her that she could go with him, giving her permission to stay away for a whole year, after which she was to visit her father once each year. She kissed his hand, as did Qamar al-Zaman, and he then began to equip them for their journey. He provided them with supplies, together with the necessary paraphernalia for travelling, and gave them excellent horses and dromedaries. He supplied his daughter with a litter and had mules and camels loaded for them, as well as providing slaves and escorts for them, together with everything else that they might need on the journey.

  On the day of their departure, the king said goodbye to Qamar al-Zaman and gave him ten splendid robes of honour, embroidered with gold and studded with gems, as well as ten horses, ten camels and a large sum of money. After telling him to look after his daughter, he went with them to the farthest point of the islands, where he again said goodbye to Qamar al-Zaman, and then, going into Budur’s litter, he hugged her, kissed her and, starting to weep, he recited these lines:

  Go slowly, you who wish to leave:

  Lovers find pleasure in an embrace.

  Go slowly; Time’s nature is treacherous,

  And companionship must end in parting.

  On leaving his daughter, he went to Qamar al-Zaman, repeating his farewells and kissing him, after which he left the two of them with instructions to set off, returning himself to his kingdom with his troops. Qamar al-Zaman and his wife travelled day after day for a whole month, after which they halted in a wide meadow full of herbage. Here they camped, ate, drank and rested. The princess went to sleep and Qamar al-Zaman, coming in to see her, found her sleeping in a tran
sparent chemise of apricot-coloured silk, with on her head a gold-embroidered kerchief set with pearls and other gems. A breeze had lifted her chemise up above her navel; her breasts were revealed as well as a belly whiter than snow, each fold of whose wrinkles could accommodate an ounce of frankincense. In an excess of passionate love, he recited:

  Were I asked, as the hot flame burns

  With fire inside my heart and inner parts,

  ‘Would you prefer to see them or a cooling drink?’

  I would reply: ‘It is they I would prefer.’

  Qamar al-Zaman put his hand on the waistband of her drawers and, in his desire for her, was tugging at it to undo it, when he caught sight of a ring with a stone as red as the dragon’s blood gum that was fastened to it. On unfastening it and looking at it, he saw two lines engraved in a script that he could not read. He wondered at this, saying to himself: ‘If this ring were not something of importance to her, she would not have fastened it where she did, hiding it in her most precious place so that she would never be separated from it. What do you suppose she does with it and what is its secret?’ He took it outside the tent to look at it in the light.

  Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and seventh night, SHE CONTINUED:

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that Qamar al-Zaman took the ring to look at it in the light. He was holding it in his hand and starting to examine it, when suddenly a bird swooped down, seized it from him and flew off. It then put the ring back down on the ground and Qamar al-Zaman, afraid for its safety, ran after the bird, but as he ran, it took flight, and he kept on following it from place to place and from hill to hill, until the coming of night brought darkness. The bird then went to roost in a high tree and Qamar al-Zaman stood beneath it in a state of perplexity. He was sinking with hunger and weariness and felt as though he was on the point of death. He wanted to go back, but he had no idea where he had come from and the darkness had taken him by surprise. So he recited the formula: ‘There is no might and no power except with God, the Exalted, the Omnipotent,’ and he then slept until morning under the tree in which the bird had perched. When he woke, he discovered that the bird too had woken and had flown from its tree. He walked after it, noticing that it would make short flights, matching the distance that he walked. ‘By God,’ he said, smiling, ‘it is wonderful that yesterday this bird flew as fast as I could run, but now it knows that I am too tired to run and so it keeps pace with me as I walk. This is marvellous indeed, but I have to go after it. Whether it leads me to life or death, I must follow it wherever it goes, and, at all events, it is bound to stop in cultivated land.’

  He then started to walk underneath the flying bird, which would spend every night in a tree. This went on for ten days, during which Qamar al-Zaman would feed on plants and drink from streams, and at the end of this period he came in sight of an inhabited city. In the blink of an eye, the bird had darted off into it. Qamar al-Zaman lost sight of it, unable to see where it had gone. In his astonishment, he gave praise to God for having brought him safely to the city and he then sat down by a stream, where he washed his hands, feet and face and rested for a time. He remembered the ease and comfort he had enjoyed, together with company of his beloved, and, thinking about his present state of hunger, weariness, care, exile and separation, he shed tears and recited:

  I could not hide the love you stirred in me;

  My eyes have exchanged sleep for sleeplessness.

  When cares weakened my heart, I called:

  ‘Time, if you wound me, wound me mortally.’

  My life lies here among distress and danger.

  Were love’s power fair and just,

  Sleep would not be banished from my eyes.

  Be gentle, masters, with a wasted lover;

  Show pity to the lord whom love’s law has abased

  Among his people, and the rich man who is poor.

  I have not followed those who censure you;

  Rather, I block my ears and make them deaf.

  They say: ‘You love a thin girl’; I reply:

  ‘I made this choice, abandoning all the rest.’

  Stop; in fate’s presence, sight is blind.

  When he had finished his poem and had rested, Qamar al-Zaman got up and walked slowly into the city…

  Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and eighth night, SHE CONTINUED:

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that when he had finished his poem and had rested, Qamar al-Zaman got up and walked into the city with no idea where he was going. He crossed from one end of it to the other, having entered by the land gate and going on until he came out by the sea gate, and during all this time he had met not a single inhabitant. The city was on the seashore and when he had left by the sea gate, he continued to walk on until he came to orchards and trees. He went in among the trees and stopped at the gates of an orchard. The gardener came out and, after they had exchanged greetings, he welcomed the newcomer, saying: ‘Praise be to God that you have got safely through the city, but come into the orchard quickly before any of the inhabitants catch sight of you.’ Qamar al-Zaman was startled and went in to ask the gardener to tell him about the people. ‘You must know,’ the man replied, ‘that they are all Magians,’ and he then asked Qamar al-Zaman to tell him how and why he had come there. Qamar al-Zaman told him everything that had happened to him, from start to finish.

  The gardener was astonished and said: ‘My son, the lands of Islam are a long way from here – a four-month journey by sea and a full year by land. We have a ship which carries merchandise there each year, going from here to the sea of the Ebony Islands and then to the Khalidan Islands of King Shahriman.’ Qamar al-Zaman thought to himself for a while and realized that the best thing for him to do would be to stay in the orchard with the gardener, working for a quarter share of the profits. He asked the gardener whether he would agree to this and the latter accepted willingly, showing him how to divert the water to the plots where the trees were planted. Qamar al-Zaman started to do this and to hoe up the weeds, wearing a short blue smock hanging down to his knees that the gardener had given him. He stayed there, watering the trees and shedding floods of tears, finding no rest by day or by night because of his exile, and reciting poetry about his beloved. Among these poems are the lines:

  You made me a promise; why did you not keep it?

  You gave me words, but why not deeds?

  Passion decreed my wakefulness, while you have slept;

  The wakeful are not like the ones who sleep.

  We had a compact to conceal our love;

  The slanderer tempted you; he spoke and you replied.

  Beloved, whether you are angry or approve,

  However things may be, you are my only goal.

  There is one here who holds my tortured heart;

  Would that she might take pity on my state.

  Not every eye is wounded as mine is,

  Nor are all hearts enslaved like mine by love.

  You acted unjustly and said: ‘Love is unjust.’

  You speak the truth, for this is what is said.

  Forget a lover, one whose promise Time

  Can never break, although fire burns in his heart.

  If my opponent is my judge in love,

  To whom can I complain of being wronged?

  Were it not for my need of love,

  I would not have a heart that love enslaves.

  So much for Qamar al-Zaman, but as for his wife, the princess Budur, when she woke up she looked for her husband but failed to find him. She discovered that her drawers had been undone and, on inspecting the fastening to which the ring had been attached, she found that the ring had gone. She said to herself in wonder: ‘Where is my husband? It looks as though he took the ring stone and went off, but he doesn’t know its secret. Where can he have gone? Something remarkable must have happened to make him lea
ve, for otherwise he would not have been able to bear parting from me for a single hour. God damn the stone and the hour when it disappeared!’

  She then thought the matter over and said to herself: ‘If I go out and tell the servants that my husband is lost, they will lust after me and so I must think of some scheme.’ She got up and dressed herself in some of Qamar al-Zaman’s clothes, putting on a turban like his, wearing boots and covering her mouth with a veil. She left a slave girl in the litter and went out of the tent. She called to the servants, who brought a horse which she mounted, and after the baggage had been loaded on her orders, they all moved off after she had given the word to leave. She concealed what she had done and no one doubted that she was Qamar al-Zaman as the two of them were of the same height and similar appearance. She and her followers then travelled on for a number of days and nights, until she came within sight of a city overlooking the salt sea. She halted outside it, and had the tents pitched so that her party could rest, and when she asked about the city, she was told that it was the Ebony City, ruled by King Armanus, who had a daughter called Hayat al-Nufus.

  Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the two hundred and ninth night, SHE CONTINUED: