The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights

by vol 02 (tr Malcolm C

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

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that ‘Ali said: ‘Do as you please,’ AND THEN WENT ON:

  And so Jubair sent one of his slave girls for an inkstand and paper. When she had fetched him these, he wrote these lines:

  In God’s Name, lady, be gentle with me,

  For love has now robbed me of all my wits.

  Love and desire for you have me within their power,

  Clothing me in sickness, leaving me a legacy of humbleness.

  My lady, before today I used to despise all love,

  Thinking it something negligible and easy.

  But when love showed the billows of its sea,

  Through God’s decree I started to excuse its sufferers.

  Whether you want to pity me, to grant me union,

  Or kill me, you should not forget God’s grace.

  He sealed the letter, and after he had handed it to me I took it and went to Budur’s house. As I had done before, I lifted the curtain bit by bit, and this time I was confronted by ten swelling-breasted virgins like moons, in the midst of whom sat the Lady Budur, like a full moon among the stars, or the sun when the clouds have cleared away, showing no sign of pain or suffering. While I was watching her in surprise, she turned in my direction and, seeing me standing at the door, she welcomed me and told me to come in. I did, and after greeting her, I handed her Jubair’s note. When she saw this and grasped its contents, she laughed and said: ‘The poet told no lie when he said:

  I shall endure my love for you with steadfastness,

  Until a messenger comes to me from you.

  I am going to write a reply for you to take, Ibn Mansur, so that he may give you what he promised you.’ ‘May God reward you well,’ I said, and she called to one of her girls to bring her an inkstand and paper. When these had been fetched she wrote the following lines:

  How is it that I kept my word, while you were treacherous,

  And while you saw I acted fairly, you wronged me?

  It was you who first broke with me, treating me harshly;

  It was from you that treachery first came,

  While I preserved our covenant among mankind,

  Guarding your honour, swearing on your behalf,

  Until I saw with my own eyes what saddened me

  And heard news of the foulness of your deeds.

  While I exalt your worth, is mine to be held cheap?

  By God, if you honoured me, I would do that for you.

  I shall turn my heart from you to find solace,

  Washing my hands of you in my despair.

  ‘By God, my lady,’ I told her, ‘as soon as he reads this he will die,’ and, tearing it up, I asked her to write something else. ‘To hear is to obey,’ she said and she wrote these lines:

  I am consoled; my eyes now taste sweet sleep.

  The censurers have told me what took place,

  And my heart has agreed that it should forget you.

  You have gone and my eyelids no longer shun sleep.

  He lies who says distance is bitter;

  To me its taste is that of sugar.

  I have come to hate those who pass by with news of you,

  Turning against them and thinking of this as something foul.

  My whole body is free of your memory;

  Let the slanderer learn this, and all who wish to know.

  ‘When he reads this, my lady,’ I told her, ‘his soul will certainly leave his body.’ ‘Do you say this because his passion has really reached such a pitch?’ she asked, and I told her: ‘If I put it even more strongly, it would be true, and forgiveness is one of the qualities of the noble.’ When she heard what I had to say, her eyes filled with tears and she wrote him a note the equal of which no one at your court, Commander of the Faithful, could produce. In it were these lines:

  How long will this coquetry and these false accusations last?

  I swear that you have brought solace to those who envy me.

  It may be that I did some wrong unwittingly.

  Tell me, then, what have you heard of me?

  It is my desire, my darling, to set you

  In the place sleep occupies in my eyes and my eyelids.

  How have you come to drink the glass of love unmixed?

  If then you see me drunk, do not reproach me.

  When she had finished writing this…

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

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that ‘ALI WENT ON:

  When she had finished writing this, she sealed it and gave it to me. ‘My lady,’ I said, ‘this note could cure the sick and quench raging thirst.’ I took it and was setting off with it when she called me as I was leaving and said: ‘Tell him: “She will be your guest tonight.” ’ This made me very happy indeed and I took the note to Jubair, whom I found, as I came in, waiting for the answer with his eyes fixed on the door. I gave it to him and when he had opened it, read it and understood its meaning, he gave a great cry and collapsed in a faint. When he recovered he asked me whether Budur had written the note with her own hand and touched it with her fingers. I said: ‘Do people write with their feet?’ Then, before the two of us had finished talking, we heard the clicking of her anklets as she came into the entrance hall. When he saw her, Jubair leapt to his feet as though there had never been anything wrong with him. He embraced her as the letter alif embraces the letter lam, and his seemingly incurable disease left him.

  Jubair then sat down but Budur remained standing and when I asked her why this was, she said that she would only sit in accordance with a condition agreed by the two of them. I wanted her to tell me what this was, but she said: ‘No one can be allowed to learn lovers’ secrets.’ Then she put her mouth to Jubair’s ear and secretly whispered something to him. ‘To hear is to obey,’ he said, and he got up and muttered something to one of his slaves, who went out for a time. When he came back he had with him a qadi and two notaries. Jubair rose and fetched a bag containing a hundred thousand dinars and he said to the qadi: ‘Draw up a marriage contract between me and this girl for this amount.’ The qadi asked Budur: ‘Tell me, are you willing to accept this?’ ‘I am willing,’ she said. The contract was then drawn up, after which Budur opened the bag, and taking a handful of coins from it she presented them to the qadi and the notaries. Then she gave back the bag with the rest of its contents to Jubair. The qadi left with the notaries, after which I sat with the two of them in pleasurable relaxation until the greater part of the night had passed.

  Then I said to myself: ‘These are two lovers who have long been parted, and I must get up immediately to sleep somewhere far removed from them, to allow them to be alone with each other.’ So I stood up, but Budur held the skirts of my gown and said: ‘What are you thinking of?’ ‘Such-and-such,’ I told her, but she said: ‘Sit down, and if we want you to go, we will send you off.’ So I sat with them until it was almost dawn, when Budur told me to go to a room that had been prepared as a bedchamber for me. I slept there and in the morning a servant brought me a ewer and basin, after which I performed the ablution and performed the morning prayer. When I had sat down I saw Jubair and Budur coming out of the house baths, each wringing out their locks. I greeted them and congratulated them on their well-being and their reunion, remarking to Jubair that what had started with the insistence on conditions had ended in contentment. ‘You are right,’ he said, ‘and you deserve generous treatment.’ He then called for his treasurer and told him to fetch three thousand dinars, and when these had been brought in a bag he asked me to please accept them. ‘I shall not take them,’ I replied, ‘until you tell me how, after you had been so strong in your rejection of Budur, this love was transferred from her to you.’ ‘To hear is to obey,’ he said.

&nb
sp; ‘You must know that we have a festival called Nauruz on which people go out in boats to enjoy themselves on the river. I and my companions went to join in the celebrations and I caught sight of a boat in which there were ten girls like moons, with Lady Budur in the middle of them, holding her lute. She played twenty-one different variations on it and then returned to the first and recited these lines:

  Fire is colder than what burns in my entrails.

  And rock is softer than my master’s heart.

  I wonder at how he has been fashioned –

  A heart of stone in a body smooth as water.

  I asked her to repeat the lines to the same tune but she refused…’

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

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that Jubair told ‘Ali: ‘I asked her to repeat the lines to the same tune but she refused, and so I told my boatmen to pelt her, which they did with oranges, until we were afraid that her boat would sink. She then went off on her way and it was because of this that love was transferred from her heart to mine.’ ‘ALI CONCLUDED:

  After congratulating the two of them on their union, I took the bag and its contents and set off for Baghdad.

  This story pleased Harun al-Rashid and his sleeplessness and ill humour left him.

  A story is also told that one day al-Ma’mun, the Commander of the Faithful, was sitting in his palace to which he had summoned the state officials and the principal officers of the kingdom, as well as poets and his boon companions. Among the latter was a man called Muhammad of Basra, and it was to him that al-Ma’mun turned, telling him: ‘I want you to tell me something that I have never heard before.’ ‘Shall I tell you of something that I have heard or something that I have seen myself?’ Muhammad asked. ‘Whichever is stranger,’ al-Ma’mun told him. SO MUHAMMAD BEGAN:

  You must know, Commander of the Faithful, that in days gone by there was a wealthy man who moved from his native Yemen to Baghdad. As he found this a pleasant place in which to live, he moved his family, his goods and his household there.

  This man had six slave girls, beautiful as moons. Of these, one was white, the second dark, the third plump, the fourth thin, the fifth yellow and the sixth black. They were not only beautiful but cultured, skilled singers and musicians. One day it happened that he had all six of them with him; he sent for food and wine and they ate, drank and enjoyed themselves merrily. Their master, holding in his hand a glass which he had filled, pointed to the white girl and said: ‘You, whose face is like the new moon, give us something delightful to hear.’ The girl took her lute, tuned it and played airs on it until the whole place danced and then, to its accompaniment, she chanted these lines:

  I have a beloved whose image is before my eyes,

  And whose name is hidden within me.

  When I remember him, I am all heart,

  And when I look at him, I am all eyes.

  The censurer told me to forget my love for him;

  I said: ‘How can what cannot happen come to be?’

  I said: ‘Go, censurer; leave me;

  Do not make light of what cannot be light for me.’

  The girls’ master was delighted; he drained his glass and poured wine for the girls, after which he refilled his glass and, holding it in his hand, he pointed to the dark girl and said: ‘Sweet-breathed light of the firebrand, let me hear your lovely voice, which bewitches all who hear it.’ So she took her lute and played trilling airs on it until the whole room was filled with delight and the hearts of her audience were captivated by the looks that she turned on them. These were the lines that she recited:

  I take an oath to love no one but you

  Until I die, and never to betray your love.

  You are the full moon, veiled in loveliness,

  And all the beauties march beneath your flag.

  You have surpassed them all in grace

  And the God of all creation has shown you His favour.

  Again the girls’ master was delighted; he drank his glass and poured wine for the girls. He filled his glass again and, holding it in his hand, he pointed to the plump girl and told her to sing a sample of love poetry. Taking her lute she played an air that banished sorrow, reciting these lines:

  If you are truly pleased, you who are my desire,

  I do not care whether all the rest are furious.

  If I can see your handsome face,

  I do not care if all earth’s kings are hid from me.

  Your pleasure is all I want in this whole world,

  You, from whom all beauty is derived.

  The master was delighted; he took his glass, poured wine for the girls, filled his own glass and, holding it in his hand, he pointed to the thin girl and said: ‘Houri of Paradise, let me hear your sweet words.’ So she took her lute, tuned it, played airs on it and then recited these lines:

  Does what you have done to me follow the path of God?

  You have turned from me when I cannot endure without you.

  Has love no arbitrator who can judge between us,

  To ensure my rights and win me justice from you?

  The master was delighted; he drained his glass, poured wine for the girls, refilled the glass and, holding it in his hand, he pointed to the yellow girl and said: ‘Sun of the day, let us hear some elegant poetry.’ Taking her lute, she played on it the finest of airs and recited these lines:

  When I show myself to my lover

  He draws a sword against me from his eyes.

  May God see that I get some justice from him,

  When he treats me roughly, while my heart is in his hand.

  Whenever I tell this heart to let him be,

  It still inclines to him, and to him alone.

  Among all mankind he is the one I seek,

  But Time, the mighty, envies me his love.

  The master was delighted; he drank his glass, poured wine for the girls, refilled the glass and, holding it in his hand, he pointed to the black girl and said: ‘O pupil of the eye, let us hear something, even if it is only two words.’ She took her lute and tuned it, tightening the strings, and she played a number of airs before returning to the first and chanting these lines to its accompaniment:

  Eye, be generous with your tears;

  My ardour has lost me my being.

  I must endure passion for a beloved,

  My intimate, suffering while the envious rejoice.

  The censurers keep me far from a rosy cheek,

  Although I have a heart yearning for the rose.

  Wine cups once circulated there,

  In joy, as the lutes played,

  When the lover was still true to me and I was filled with love.

  Thanks to his faithfulness, good fortune’s star shone out.

  Then, through no fault of mine, he turned away.

  What is there bitterer than being shunned?

  Fresh roses bloom upon his cheeks;

  By God, how beautiful are rosy cheeks!

  If piety allowed me to prostrate myself

  To anyone but God, I would prostrate myself to him.

  After this the girls got up and, after kissing the ground in front of their master, they asked him to judge between them. Looking at their beauty and gracefulness as well as the variety of their colours, he praised and extolled Almighty God and then he said: ‘There is not one of you who has not studied the Quran, learned music, and acquired knowledge of our ancestors as well as of the doings of past peoples. I want each of you to get up and point to her opposite – I mean white to dark, plump to thin and yellow to black. Each is then to praise herself and find fault with her opposite, who is then to rise and do the same thing to her. In what you say you should use Quranic quotations, references to history and lines of poetry so as to display your culture and your eloquence.’ ‘To hear is to obey,’ they said.

  Nights 335 to 354

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

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that the girls told their master: ‘To hear is to obey.’

  The first to stand up was the white girl, who pointed at her black opposite and said: ‘Woe to you, black one! Tradition has it that whiteness said: “I am the shining light; I am the rising moon.” My colour is clear; my forehead is radiant and it was of my beauty that the poet said:

  A white girl with polished cheeks, smooth,

  Like a pearl concealed in beauty.

  Her figure blooms like the letter alif, while her mouth

  Is mim, with her eyebrows above it as a nun.

  Her glances are arrows and her brows

  A bow that is linked to death.

  When she appears, in her cheeks, cheekbones and figure

  Are roses, myrtle, sweet basil and eglantine.

  By custom boughs are planted within gardens,

  But how many gardens are contained within your figure’s bough!

  My colour is that of pleasant day, flowers in bloom and bright stars. God, in the Glorious Quran, said to His prophet Moses, on whom be peace: “Put your hand to your breast; it will come out white, without stain.”* He also said, Almighty is He: “Those whose faces have been whitened will remain for ever in God’s mercy.”† My colour is a miracle and my beauty and grace are at the farthest point of excellence. Clothes look their best on those of my colour and it is to this that souls incline. Whiteness has many virtues. Snow is white when it falls from the sky; tradition has it that white is the best of colours and the Muslims take pride in wearing white turbans.