Layli and Majnun

  Harm to the moth that hovers in its glow,

  Sorrow and scorn may kill me, but I bless

  Your Ebn Salam, and wish him happiness.

  My good and evil come from you, my grief

  Derives from you and so does its relief;

  An iron wall’s between us, but I’m sure

  The shell still holds its pearl, unpierced and pure;

  Within your tumbling curls, and guarded by

  Your dragon will, your untouched treasures lie.119

  You know a lover’s heart can harbor spite

  And every kind of evil appetite,

  A lover is the blindest man, his eyes

  Will see a fly take on a vulture’s size—

  I’m restless as an ant to make this fly

  Fly from the sugar that has caught his eye,

  By which I mean this fine young man120 has made

  A nasty profit from a lawless trade,

  He’s seized upon an unpicked rose, his gold

  Has bought a pearl that shouldn’t have been sold.

  *

  “Oh, I know well enough that love’s a name

  For something difficult, it’s not a game;

  How can I not weep, when you’re unaware

  Of all my agonies and my despair?

  I’m worse than you have seen me, in a word

  I’m far more crazy even than you’ve heard,

  And now that we’re apart I travel on

  A path that’s purposeless, whose meaning’s gone,

  In love’s religion, love without such pain

  Has no more value than a barley grain.

  *

  “Your lips cannot touch mine, so let it be

  That in your kisses you’ll remember me;

  When you use musky scent, when you prepare

  The fragrance that pervades your lovely hair,

  Let the breeze waft these sweet aromas near me

  And they’ll revitalize my heart, and cheer me,

  And in my dreams I’ll taste the sweetness of

  The dates your face’s garden gives your love,

  And I shall taste once more your noble wine

  Imagining that once again you’re mine.

  O God, how wonderful it is to think

  That you might hand me that forbidden drink,

  That you might sit with me, and that I’d be

  Drunk with the wine that’s you sat next to me,

  And that I’d savor in alternate sips

  Wine from your hands and kisses from your lips.

  But oh, your little lips, how will they bear

  The ardent kisses I shall give them there?

  They’re agate and they’re honey, how will they

  Endure such amorous and boisterous play?

  At times I’ll kiss your lovely lips and face,

  At times enfold you in my strong embrace,

  At times caress your apple chin,121 and then

  Steal sweetest sugar from your lips again.

  *

  “All that I’ve said’s a dream you can ignore,

  A way to write to you, and nothing more;

  I long for nothing now but tales of you,

  Of how and where you are and what you do,

  My love for you’s so strongly set in place

  Why do I even need to see your face?

  It’s blasphemy to say we’re two, to say

  Love is between us now in any way—

  When love displays its face, it’s a disgrace

  For me to see your actual living face.

  Love’s my companion, may its wounds caress

  My inward being with untold distress,

  My wounds cannot be cured, but I shall dwell

  In happiness if you are whole and well,

  And if I suffer from your absence, may

  Such absent suffering never come your way.

  If my poor donkey falls down dead, may your

  Swift Arab horse’s hooves be strong and sure,

  If hidden grief besets me, may you be

  Endowed forever with nobility,

  May those who would oppose you know defeat

  And be the trampled dust beneath your feet.”

  Majnun’s Uncle, Salim Amiri, Comes to See Majnun

  The golden words this storyteller said

  Were precious stones strung on a jeweler’s thread:

  *

  There was an uncle of Majnun who cared

  About his nephew’s state, and how he fared;

  An old man, who had great experience,

  Someone endowed with kindness and good sense,

  Skillful, astute in an emergency—

  His noble name was Salim Amiri.

  For years he’d soothed his nephew’s agonies

  And sympathized with all his miseries;

  At times he’d take him food and clothes, and then

  After a month he’d do the same again.

  One day he set off on his horse to find

  This youth who’d been so pitied and maligned,

  And like a violent blustery whirlwind he

  Searched the land eagerly and ceaselessly

  Until he found him in a rocky cleft,

  Careless of all the comradeship he’d left,

  Surrounded by a few wild beasts, but sure

  He wouldn’t see wild humans any more.

  Salim was fearful of these wild assistants

  And hailed Majnun, but from a prudent distance.

  Hearing a human voice, Majnun inquired

  First what his name was, then what he desired.

  “I am Salim,” he said, “a wanderer who

  Has known the buffetings of Fate like you,

  I am your uncle, but I’d hardly know it,

  If we’re alike your strange face doesn’t show it,

  Your skin’s so weathered you’re a different man,

  You look as black as any African!”

  Majnun was quick to greet him and assure him

  That he was welcome there, and knelt before him,

  And asked for news of all that he was missing,

  Happy to hear his uncle’s reminiscing.

  Salim saw he was naked, comfortless,

  Without provisions in the wilderness,

  And showed him clothes he’d brought (and meanwhile he

  Apologized for their poor quality),122

  Saying, “They’re honest goods, why don’t you use them?

  Take them for my sake; come on, don’t refuse them.”

  Majnun replied, “My body’s fire will turn them

  To smoke and ash, it will completely burn them;

  Imagine I’ve accepted them and worn them,

  Then ripped them up, and shredded them, and torn them!”

  Salim insisted, though, till he relented

  And wore the clothes his uncle had presented.

  Quickly Salim produced a meal, roast meats

  Of various kinds, and various kinds of sweets,

  But then, no matter how much Salim pleaded,

  Majnun said there was nothing there he needed—

  He didn’t taste the food, but handed it

  To all the beasts around him, bit by bit.

  Salim said, “But you’re in a desperate plight—

  What is it that you live on day and night?

  It’s food that gives men strength to stay alive,

  So if you’re human how do you survive?”

  Majnun replied, “My heart’s poor faculties

  Come from the presence of the morning breeze,

  I eat so little that I
haven’t fed

  My body’s appetite and now it’s dead,

  But if a breeze brings Layli’s fragrance, then

  Surely my soul revives, and lives again.

  I sleep on stones each night, by day I find

  Little to eat, and still less peace of mind;

  I tear off bark from trees, and use my teeth

  To gnaw the gums and resins underneath,

  Or I eat plants, but not each week; a diet

  Of plants once every month keeps hunger quiet.

  I eat so little now that I’ve been freed

  From flesh’s every mortal want and need,

  I can’t eat bread, the tiniest little bit

  Would make my gullet gag and choke on it.

  And this not needing food means that I’ve grown

  So thin now I’m no more than skin and bone,

  But I accept your present as a treat

  For all the others here who need to eat—

  For me to see the deer and lions feed

  Is all the sustenance I’ll ever need.”

  *

  And when Salim saw he was satisfied

  To live on what the desert’s plants supplied,

  He sympathized with Majnun’s situation

  And answered him with friendly admiration,

  Not least because Salim was well aware

  Of how gross appetite can be a snare—

  Of how a greedy bird can easily

  Be trapped, then realize that it can’t get free.

  If plants are what a man’s content to eat,

  He’ll be a king whom no one can defeat.

  A Tale123

  “One day a king decided he would ride

  With regal pomp around the countryside,

  And passed the hovel of a hermit who

  Thought always of the world he’d travel to.

  The king was shocked a man should choose to live

  In somewhere so run-down and primitive

  And asked his courtiers, ‘What’s he doing here,

  Living in such a wretched atmosphere?

  What does he eat? How can he sleep? How can

  He bear to live here? Just who is this man?’

  They said, ‘He is a saint, a man who’s quit

  This world and everything to do with it;

  He neither eats nor sleeps, but patiently

  Subsists, and shuns all human company.’

  Apprised of this, the king resolved to meet him

  And sent his chamberlain ahead to greet him;

  The chamberlain approached the man to bring

  Him forward to the presence of the king

  And said, ‘You have renounced the world, and choose

  To live somewhere that most men would refuse;

  You’ve no friends here, so why should you remain here?

  Stuck in this den, what can you hope to gain here?’

  The hermit had some plants he’d picked to steep

  And crush, gathered from where the wild deer sleep,

  He showed them to the chamberlain and said,

  ‘This is my fodder for the path ahead.’

  The haughty chamberlain said, ‘Why should you

  Live in the shameful, wretched way you do?

  If you should serve our king, you can be sure

  You won’t be eating plant stems any more.’

  The hermit said, ‘But what are you implying?

  This is a syrup, sweet and fortifying;

  “Plant stems,” you say! Taste this, and I’ve no doubt

  That you’ll forget the king you boast about!’

  The king had heard their talk, and with remorse

  He hurriedly dismounted from his horse

  And knelt before the hermit reverently,

  And kissed the ground there deferentially.

  Contentment is a quality that brings

  A kingdom greater than an earthly king’s.”

  *

  Majnun was cheered to hear this tale, and sat

  Beside his kindly guest, prepared to chat—

  He asked about his friends, seeking to know

  Details that he’d forgotten long ago,

  And then how his poor mother was now keeping,

  And suddenly he found that he was weeping;

  “That broken-winged, poor bird I left behind,

  How is her health, what occupies her mind?

  My face is black124 to think what I have done,

  I ought to be her slave now, not her son—

  And is she sick or well? I long for her,

  To be her confidant and comforter.”

  Salim knew Majnun’s mother well, and went

  To fetch her in response to his lament,

  He would not leave the jewel without the mine125

  From which it came, where first it used to shine,

  And brought her from her house to see her son,

  And seeing him she saw what grief had done—

  The red rose had turned yellow, rust had shrouded

  The mirror’s brightness now grown dim and clouded;126

  And almost fell and fainted as she felt

  The strength in all her limbs dissolve and melt.

  From head to foot she lavished all her care—

  Washing his face with tears, combing his hair,

  Cleansing his scars and skin as she caressed

  Each part of him, seeing his wounds were dressed,

  Rinsing his hair of dust, making it neat,

  And drawing thorns from his sore, blistered feet.

  When she’d done all a mother’s love could do

  And eased his pain in every way she knew,

  She said: “My son, what are you thinking of,

  Playing this violent game of pointless love?

  Death waits, and wields a sharp two-handed sword

  That in your drunkenness you have ignored,

  Your disillusioned father’s dead, and I

  Know that it won’t be long before I die;

  Listen to me, come home again, don’t scorn

  And foul the humble nest where you were born.

  Though birds might fly, though animals might roam

  As long as day lasts, far away from home,

  When twilight deepens they all know it’s best

  That each of them should seek his natal nest.

  Worn out and sleepless, how long will you flee

  From every kind of human company?

  Life lasts two days, no more; why don’t you spend them

  Resting at home? What better way to end them?

  Why haunt these caves? Why tread on stony ground

  Where only ants and slithering snakes are found,

  Where snakes can bite you, and where ants are all

  The company you can expect to call?

  Rest from all this, your soul is sensitive,

  It isn’t stone to crush, it needs to live!

  Your heart’s not iron, your soul’s not stone, don’t act

  As if they’re enemies to be attacked!”

  *

  Hearing his mother’s words, Majnun became

  Like fire that flares up with a flickering flame;

  He cried: “Humbly I bow my head to you,

  You were the shell in which my being grew,

  I am the seed you’ve sown, and may there be

  No other heaven but your door for me.

  It’s true my wits have wandered; all the same

  You know I’m innocent, I’m not to blame,

  All that’s occurred is not because of me,

  All this was fated from
eternity.

  The time’s long past when I could hope to find

  Some remedy to heal my heart and mind—

  You know such violent love’s not ours to choose,

  It’s not a thing to want or to refuse.

  My soul is like a trapped bird,127 and I long to see

  My soul escape this cage, alive and free;

  My sorrow isn’t something you’ll assuage

  By trapping me within a second cage.

  Don’t ask me to come home, to weep and sigh there,

  I fear I’ll be so desperate that I’ll die there—

  The wilderness is life to me; I dread

  The thought of home, where I would soon be dead.

  Better I sing to these wild beasts than stay

  Among mankind and sulk my life away;

  If I come home, all I will do is grieve

  Distractedly, and look for ways to leave,

  I’ll be a checker in backgammon when

  It’s been hemmed in and cannot move again—

  Mother, go back, you’ve traveled here in vain,

  And leave me to my wilderness of pain.”

  *

  He fell, and like a shadow in the street

  Stretched out upon the ground, and kissed her feet;

  With these sad kisses he apologized,

  Knowing he could not do as she advised.

  He said farewell, and left his mother there—

  Weeping, she turned, and went home in despair,

  Where longing for her son intensified,

  Just as his father’s had, till she too died.

  *

  Each day the world will snatch more souls away;

  Acknowledge that it’s faithless while you may,

  But though the world is fickle, still men act

  As if they were oblivious of this fact.

  Inconstant Fate has like a peasant sown

  A few seeds, which she harvests when they’ve grown,

  And for the soul it lights a lamp each night

  That wind extinguishes with morning’s light—

  The turning heavens signify our pain,

  The lamps they light for us they light in vain.

  Problems impede us everywhere we run

  Like Gordian knots that cannot be undone

  Until we’re free of those four elements128

  That constitute our earthly residence.

  Be as a pure soul, free of quandaries,

  Not like a sickness nothing can appease,

  If sandalwood makes coils of smoke, then be

  The source that solves all coils invisibly.

  Majnun Is Told of His Mother’s Death