The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights

by vol 02 (tr Malcolm C

  He then turned to the vizier who had brought him the gift and the letter and said: ‘Go back to your master and tell him that Uns al-Wujud has been absent for a year and that I don’t know where he has gone and have no news of him.’ ‘Master,’ said the vizier, ‘King Dirbas told me that, if I failed to bring him Uns al-Wujud, I would be dismissed from my vizierate and not be allowed to enter my city, so how can I go back without him?’ King Shamikh told his own vizier, Ibrahim: ‘Go with this man, taking an escort with you, and search for Uns al-Wujud throughout the lands.’ ‘To hear is to obey,’ said Ibrahim, who then, with an escort of his own men, took Dirbas’s vizier with him and set off to look for Uns al-Wujud.

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

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that Ibrahim, the vizier of King Shamikh, with an escort of his own men, took Dirbas’s vizier with him and set off to look for Uns al-Wujud.

  Whenever they met a group of Bedouin or anyone else whom they could question, they described Uns al-Wujud and asked whether anyone of this name and description had passed them. Those they questioned all said that they knew nothing about him, but the viziers went on asking after him in cities and towns, and searching for him through plains, hills and deserts until they reached the coast. There they looked for a ship on which they embarked and they sailed to the Mountain of the Mother Who Lost Her Child.

  Ibrahim asked Dirbas’s vizier the reason for the name and was told: ‘In the old days, a Chinese jinniya lived there. She had fallen passionately in love with a mortal and was afraid that her family might kill her. Under the influence of her passion she looked for somewhere to hide him from them and she discovered this mountain, which was cut off from both men and jinn and to which they could not find their way. She then carried off her lover and placed him there, after which she would visit her own family before returning to him in secret. That went on for a long time, until she had given birth to a number of his children on that mountain, and merchants sailing past would hear them crying like a mother who had lost her child and they would ask themselves whether there was such a woman there.’

  Dirbas’s vizier wondered at the story, and he and his companions moved on until they reached the castle, where they knocked on the door. This was opened and out came the eunuch, who, on recognizing Ibrahim, the vizier, kissed the ground before him. Ibrahim went in and found a poor man sitting among the servants. This was Uns al-Wujud, and when Ibrahim asked where al-Wujud had come from, they told him that this was a merchant who had escaped with his life from a shipwreck in which he had lost all his goods, and that he was now a man possessed. Ibrahim left him and entered the castle, but failed to find any trace of his daughter. He asked the slave girls and they said: ‘We don’t know how she left, but she only stayed with us for a short time.’

  Ibrahim then shed tears and recited:

  Dwelling, your birds sang and the lintels of your doors showed off their pride;

  A lover came to you, lamenting his longing, only to find those doors ajar.

  Would that I knew where my dear heart is lost in a house whose owners are now gone.

  In it was every splendour, with a proud display of chamberlains.

  It was hung with coverings of silk brocade; where are its people now?

  When he finished his poem, he wept, lamented and complained, saying: ‘No one can circumvent God’s decree or escape the fate He has ordained.’ After that he went up to the castle roof, and there he found the robes of Baalbaki material still tied to one of the battlements and reaching down to the ground. He realized that his daughter must have let herself down from here and gone off, maddened by love. Turning, he saw two birds, a crow and an owl, and, taking this as an evil omen, he heaved a deep sigh and recited:

  I came to the house of the beloved in the hope

  A trace of her might quench the ardour of my passion.

  I failed to find her there, and only saw

  Two evil omens, a crow and an owl.

  The tongue of silent conscience said: ‘You were unjust;

  You parted two fond lovers,

  So taste that pain of passion which you gave to them,

  And live a life of sorrow, amidst tears and pain.’

  He came down, still weeping, from the roof and ordered the servants to go out and search for their mistress on the mountain, which they did, but to no effect.

  So much for them, but as for Uns al-Wujud, when he discovered that al-Ward had gone, he uttered a great cry and fell down in a faint. He remained unconscious for so long that the servants thought he must have received a summons from the Merciful and was lost in the awesome beauty of God, the Judge. The viziers despaired of finding him, and as Ibrahim was preoccupied with the loss of his daughter, Dirbas’s vizier decided to go back home, even though he had failed in his mission.

  He took his leave of Ibrahim and told him that he intended to take the poor man with him in the hopes that, as he was possessed, the blessing of his presence might soften Dirbas’s heart towards him and after that he could be sent to Isfahan, which was close at hand. ‘Do what you want,’ said Ibrahim, and the two then parted, each making for his own land.

  Dirbas’s vizier took Uns al-Wujud with him…

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

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that Dirbas’s vizier took Uns al-Wujud with him, still unconscious, and during a three-day journey he was carried by mule, without knowing what was happening to him. When he recovered his senses, he said: ‘Where am I?’ and the attendants told him that he was with the vizier of King Dirbas, after which they went to the vizier to let him know that the stranger was awake. The vizier sent him sugared rosewater and drinks which they gave him to revive him, and they continued on their way until they came close to the king’s city. The king then sent a message to the vizier to say: ‘If Uns al-Wujud is not with you, do not come to me,’ an order that distressed the vizier. He had no idea that al-Ward was with the king, and he did not know why he had been sent to fetch Uns al-Wujud or why the king was hoping to arrange a marriage. For his part, Uns al-Wujud knew neither where they were taking him nor that the vizier had been sent to find him, while the vizier did not know that the stranger was, in fact, Uns al-Wujud.

  On seeing that the stranger had recovered consciousness the vizier told him: ‘The king sent me on an errand which I have not completed, and when he learned of my return he sent me a message to say that, if I had failed, I was not to enter the city.’ ‘What was your errand?’ asked Uns al-Wujud, and the vizier then told him the whole story. ‘Have no fear,’ said Uns al-Wujud, ‘but go to the king, taking me with you, and I guarantee that Uns al-Wujud will come.’ ‘Is this true?’ asked the delighted vizier, and when he was told that it was, he mounted and, accompanied by Uns al-Wujud, he went to the king.

  When the two of them entered the king’s presence he asked where Uns al-Wujud was, and Uns al-Wujud answered: ‘I know where he is, your majesty.’ The king called him forward and asked: ‘Where is he?’ ‘Very near indeed,’ replied Uns al-Wujud, ‘but tell me what you want from him and then I shall produce him for you.’ ‘Willingly,’ replied the king, ‘but this is a matter that requires privacy.’ So he sent away his courtiers and, taking Uns al-Wujud to a private room, he told him the whole story from beginning to end. He, in his turn, then promised the king that if fine robes were given him to wear he would quickly produce Uns al-Wujud. This was done and then he said: ‘I am Uns al-Wujud, on whom the envious look with sadness.’

  With beguiling glances he then recited these lines:

  Memory of the beloved cheers my solitude,

  Though we are far from one other, it dispels my loneliness.

  My eyes are all tears, and their flood

  Lightens the burden of my sighs.
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br />   The violence of my longing is not to be matched;

  My state as an ardent lover is remarkable indeed.

  I pass my nights in wakefulness, without sleep;

  Attempting to find love, I am left between hellfire and Paradise.

  I have lost the virtue of patience I once had,

  While the ardour of my love and my distress increase.

  The pain of parting has emaciated me;

  Longing has changed my appearance and my shape.

  My eyelids are wounded by tears that I cannot call back.

  I am helpless, and no longer have I any heart;

  How many torments must I bear, one following the other?

  My heart has turned grey as my hair,

  In grief for the most beautiful of all.

  We parted, and that was against her will,

  For what she wanted was to join with me in union.

  Do you suppose that after distance separated us,

  Destiny will allow the joy of union with my love,

  Rolling up the unfolded page of parting,

  Wiping away distress with this comfort?

  Will my beloved stay beside me in these lands,

  And sorrow be exchanged for joy of heart?

  When he had finished his poem, the king said to him: ‘By God, the two of you are true lovers and shining stars in the sky of beauty. Yours is a strange and remarkable story.’ He then told Uns al-Wujud the whole tale of al-Ward, and when Uns al-Wujud asked him where she was, he told him: ‘She is here with me now.’ He then brought in the qadi and the notaries to draw up a marriage contract between the two lovers, and he showered favours on Uns al-Wujud. A message was sent to King Shamikh to tell him everything that had happened in this affair, and the king, in his delight at the news, sent back word to say: ‘As the marriage contract was drawn up at your court, the celebrations and the wedding night must be at mine.’ He got ready camels, horses and men and sent them to fetch the bridal pair. When his message arrived, King Dirbas supplied them with large sums of money and an escort of his own men, who took them to their own city.

  The day of their arrival was a red-letter one, and none more splendid had ever been seen. King Shamikh had collected all the singers with the instruments that they used for accompaniment, and he gave banquets which lasted for seven days, on each of which he distributed splendid robes and largesse to the people. Then Uns al-Wujud went to al-Ward and, after they had embraced, they sat shedding tears of joy and delight. Al-Ward recited the following lines:

  Joy has come and sorrow and grief have left;

  We are reunited, to the distress of envious men.

  The scented breeze of union has revived hearts, souls and bodies.

  Here are the perfumed joys of our companionship,

  And the drums of good tidings sound in the north, south, east and west.

  Do not think our tears are those of sorrow;

  Rather, it is for joy that they rain down.

  How many perils did we face which have now cleared away,

  After we endured what brought us grief.

  One hour of union has made me forget

  All those terrors that turned us grey.

  When she had finished, the two embraced again and continued to do so until they fell fainting…

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

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that Uns al-Wujud and al-Ward joined in an embrace which continued until they fell fainting with pleasure. When they had recovered, Uns al-Wujud recited:

  How sweet now are our nights of union

  When I receive justice from my beloved.

  Our union lasts and separation ends.

  Fate shows us favour, though once it shunned us and had turned away.

  The banners of fortune are raised over us,

  And what we drink is unmixed happiness.

  We meet, complaining of past griefs,

  And the nights’ harshness that we once endured.

  But now that past is all forgotten;

  The Merciful God has blotted out what has gone.

  How pleasant and delightful now is life,

  As union only adds to the love I feel.

  When he had finished, the two lovers embraced and lay together in their private chamber, continuing to entertain each other with poems, witty stories and anecdotes until they were drowning in a sea of passion. Seven days passed, but they could not tell night from day, so great was their pleasure, delight and pure joy, and it was as though this whole week was a single day. It was only when the musicians came that they realized how much time had passed, and al-Ward, taken by surprise, then recited:

  To the anger of the envious and the watchers,

  I have won what I wanted from my lover.

  For we have been united in an embrace

  With brocades and gleaming silk,

  On a leather couch filled marvellously with feathers.

  Instead of wine, we drained unmatched draughts of love.

  Through the sweetness of union, we cannot tell far from near.

  It is a marvel that seven nights have passed and we did not know.

  Felicitate me on this week and say:

  ‘May God prolong your union with your love.’

  When she had finished, Uns al-Wujud kissed her more than a hundred times before reciting:

  Oh, day of joy and happiness!

  The loved one came and saved me from abandonment.

  She cheered me with the sweetness of her union,

  Keeping me company with wit and grace.

  She poured for me wine of delight,

  A wine that stole away my wits.

  We lay together in our joy and happiness,

  Passing on to drink and song.

  In our excess of pleasure we could not tell

  Which day came first and which then followed it.

  Happy the lover who enjoys sweet union,

  In such delight as I have met,

  Who does not know bitter rejection’s taste,

  But finds the gift that God has given me.

  When he had finished, bride and groom left their chamber and distributed money and robes as gifts to the people. Al-Ward then ordered the baths to be cleared for her, and she told Uns al-Wujud: ‘Delight of my eyes, I want to see you in the baths and to be alone there with you.’ In the excess of her happiness, she recited:

  You won me long ago;

  The present cannot do without the past;

  Nor can I do without you, O my love.

  There is no other that I hope to meet.

  Come to the baths, you who delight my eyes,

  To find our paradise in the midst of hell.

  Which we shall fill with the aloes and with nadd,

  Spreading sweet scent throughout the rooms.

  We shall forgive Time for the wrongs it did,

  And give thanks to our Lord, the Merciful.

  Then, when I see you there, I shall call out:

  ‘Come, my beloved, to taste happiness.’

  When she had finished they went off to the baths and took their pleasure there, before returning to the palace. There they stayed enjoying the greatest of joys until they were visited by the destroyer of delights and the parter of companions. Glory be to Him, Who does not change or come to an end and to Whom all things return.

  A story is told that one day, when Abu Nuwas was alone, he prepared a splendid reception room and got ready foods of all types and kinds to tempt lips and tongues. Then he went out in search of a lover who might be worthy of this, saying: ‘My God, my Lord and my Master, I ask you to bring me a suitable guest for this room, a fitting companion to drink with me today.’ Before he had finished speaking, he caught sight of three handsome beardless boys, who looked like the children of Paradise, of differing complexions but united in their remarkable beauty. Their pliant bodies roused hopes, as the po
et said:

  I passed by two beardless boys and said:

  ‘I love you.’ They replied:

  ‘Are you a rich man?’ ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘and generous.’

  The two boys then said: ‘Done.’

  Abu Nuwas was addicted to this kind of thing, taking his pleasure with pretty boys and plucking the roses of fresh cheeks, as the poet says:

  There is many an old man subject to youthful passion

  Who loves pretty boys and likes enjoyment.

  In the morning he is a Mosuli in the land of purity,

  But his memories are of the passions of Aleppo.

  He went up to the boys, and when he greeted them they returned his greeting with the greatest courtesy and respect. They were then about to turn away, but he blocked their path and recited:

  Don’t hurry to another;

  Within me is the mine of generosity.

  I have wine whose brilliance

  Is prepared within the monastery by monks.

  I have mutton and fowls of all types.

  Eat that and drink old wine

  That drives off every harm.

  Fornicate with one another

  And slip my penis in between you.

  The boys were seduced by his verses and inclined to do what he wanted…

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

  I have heard, O fortunate king, that the boys were seduced by his verses and inclined to do what he wanted, so they accepted his invitation and went home with him. They found everything that he had mentioned in his poem ready and waiting in his reception room, where they sat, eating, drinking and enjoying themselves. Then they asked Abu Nuwas to judge which of them was the most handsome with the best figure. He pointed at one of them, whom he kissed twice, and then he recited:

  I would give my life to ransom the mole on his cheek;