Layli and Majnun

  Journeyed together; as Majnun would sing

  Salam was keen to write down everything—

  But soon Salam found that he couldn’t keep

  To never needing either food or sleep

  And when he saw the cloth day after day

  Empty of food, he knew he couldn’t stay;

  His weakness meant that finally he said

  Goodbye to all the wild beasts there, and fled

  Back to Baghdad; at least, though, now he brought

  All of the perfect poems he’d been taught,

  And everywhere he sang them men would stare

  To hear such loveliness, and such despair.

  On the Greatness of Majnun

  Don’t think Majnun was one whose crazy ways

  Were those of fools we meet with nowadays

  Who never pray or fast, who’ve no respect

  For manners, justice, or the intellect.

  He knew each chapter, each obscurest verse,

  Of laws that regulate the universe,

  And by his knowledge could elucidate

  The secrets of the processes of Fate.

  His speech glowed like gold coins, his poetry

  Glistened like pearls set out ingeniously

  (It’s common knowledge that a madman’s heart

  Could not produce such captivating art).

  As drunkards do, he’d left the world, but stayed

  Still cognizant of how it had been made,

  And knew death’s bitterness and had prepared

  Provisions for the way on which he fared.

  Since life was hard for him, his death appeared

  As welcome, not a phantom to be feared—

  It’s hard to leave this world unless one knows

  The secret ways by which the traveler goes,

  And one who clings to this sad home will find

  It’s difficult to leave this place behind.

  Majnun required no friends, and gradually

  He loosened all earth’s bonds till he was free,

  Since he was anxious to be ready when

  The lordly Hunter of the Souls of men

  Asked for his soul from him, so that he could

  Hand it to Him entirely, as he should.

  Fear haunts the ship of life, and being there

  Was what provoked in him such deep despair,

  Food was like poison to him, and the sea

  He sailed was like a long futility.

  He’d calmed his nature and forgone its use

  And his belovèd was a mere excuse;

  He knew desire and readiness for sin

  But kept them like a hidden sword within—

  The love he sought from Layli’s soul was one

  They’d know eternally when life was done.

  *

  I asked a wise philosopher who knew

  Love’s nature, and the things that it can do,

  To talk to me about the long delay

  Some lovers know along love’s endless way—

  A man might search for thirty years before

  He knows the love that he’s been longing for!

  He said, “After that moment he’s enjoyed

  All of love’s bliss, his life becomes a void;

  For thirty years he’s searched for happiness

  In something that is weak and substanceless.

  I place one step beyond both worlds,141 and wine

  Unearthly and eternal there is mine.”

  Zayd’s Love for Zaynab

  At the same time, in the same place, they say

  Another love-chained helpless lover lay

  Incapable with wretchedness as though

  Beneath a mountainside of heartfelt woe,

  Sent wild by love, as if a demon had

  Possessed his mind and made him wholly mad.

  He was a fine young man, whose poetry

  Mixed delicacy’s charm with misery,

  A man whom ardent love had captured, who

  Was love’s now utterly and through and through.

  His name was Zayd, and he lived not far from

  The place where Layli’s household had their home.

  It was his cousin that Zayd loved, and she

  Returned his love with equal urgency;

  Each felt the sign, and in an equal fashion,

  That they’d been smitten by this lovesick passion:

  Always, impatiently, she longed to stay

  Beside her longed-for cousin, come what may,

  While he was so in love, in such despair,

  He felt his life was hanging by a hair.

  She was so lively, beautiful, and smiling,

  Her figure slim and prettily beguiling,

  And she was tall, her waist as pliant, white

  As quicksilver that seems composed of light;

  Her cheeks were red-bud flowers, her lovely scent

  Was like the breeze of dawn that’s heaven-sent,

  She was unique, bewitching . . . far and wide

  Her praises spread throughout the countryside,

  And men said she outdid the beauties of

  Taraz142 in qualities that lead to love,

  In jokes and wiles, that seeing her would cure

  The thousand sicknesses that men endure.

  Her mouth was tiny as an ant, and where

  Her waist was seemed as narrow as a hair,143

  Her chin was like an apple that’s more green

  Than any senna Mecca’s ever seen,144

  Her kisses were like honeycomb, more sweet

  Than sweetened syrups or a sugared treat,

  And when she’d sugared kisses to bestow,

  Her lips’ sweet syllabub would overflow—

  Then to her loving cousin she could seem

  To be the source of life eternal’s stream,

  Or like a cypress tree whose curious crop

  Of sugared rosewater would never stop.

  Her face outshone the shining sun, her hair

  Spread ambergris’s fragrance everywhere—

  Her name was Zaynab, and her loveliness

  Was the continual cause of Zayd’s distress

  As he used all his cunning skill to find

  How this unrivaled ruby could be mined.145

  His one fault was that he was poor, whereas

  His uncle had the wealth a rich man has.

  Zayd asked him for some money—he refused him;

  He asked him for his daughter—he abused him;

  His uncle wouldn’t see him, what could he

  Contrive to do in this extremity,

  A man who was so poor, a wretch who spent

  His days and nights in one long love-lament,

  Writing heart-rending songs, that hoped no one

  Would ever grieve in love as he had done?

  His uncle, meanwhile, was deliberately

  Keeping his daughter under lock and key,

  The suitor who was poor had been sent packing,

  A suitable rich suitor was still lacking . . .

  At last his headache ended when a man

  Came forward who appeared to fit his plan,

  A wealthy man whom he was satisfied

  To give Zaynab to as his lawful bride.

  *

  Zayd gave up all his hopes of her, and knew

  New depths of sorrow as his anguish grew,

  He neither ate nor slept, and he became

  A byword for his sorrow and his shame,

  Bound hand and foot in hopeless love, he soon

  Became as wild and crazy as Majnun—

&
nbsp; His faithless friends all mocked him and departed,

  Leaving him in love’s furnace, brokenhearted.

  Sparks from this fire reached Layli, and she learned

  Of how love tortured him, and how he burned—

  At times she’d summon him, and they would sit

  And talk of love and never tire of it,

  She would make much of him and ask him to

  Describe the agonies that he’d been through

  And as he told her of his love he’d sigh,

  And hearing him she’d sympathize and cry,

  And seeing all his faithfulness she’d dare

  To tell him of her love and her despair,

  Until she took him as her messenger

  To take a letter to Majnun for her.

  *

  As soon as Majnun read her words, they made

  Him dance with happiness in front of Zayd,

  Who was content to help him and behave

  Like one whose earring marks him as a slave,146

  And seeing him so tractable and mild

  Majnun’s wild beasts forgot that they were wild.

  The messenger became a friend, and soon

  A proved amanuensis for Majnun

  And all the lines of verse he improvised

  Zayd carefully wrote down and organized,

  And put them into Layli’s hands, and then

  With Layli’s messages came back again;

  So Zayd became their willing messenger

  From her to him and then from him to her.

  *

  Majnun was singing something sad one day

  But softly, in a semi-private way,

  When suddenly, sarcastically, Zayd said,

  “The heart that strings such jewels on such a thread,

  Why does it choose to be so mad, when plainly

  It would be better if it acted sanely?

  Your words are noble and inspired, and yet

  You’re filled with self-contempt and with regret;

  But this is how I am, so what makes you

  Better than me when you do what I do?

  I weep as much as you, my life is more

  Unhappy than yours is, I’m much more poor;

  I’m patient just like you, I think like you,

  We eat the same things and I drink like you.

  Give up this craziness, it’s brought you shame,

  Infatuation’s ruined your good name.”

  *

  Majnun, an earthly paragon, whose soul

  Had conquered lust and mastered self-control,

  Heard Zayd’s impetuous and rash attack

  And with his own impetuous rage struck back:

  “Stop, stop! You’ve said enough! You’re here to be

  My messenger, no more. What’s Zayd to me?

  How long do you intend to tell me tales

  About Zayd’s life and all of his travails?

  Why do you say I’m mad? A madman cares

  For nothing but himself and his affairs

  And I’m as innocent of all of this

  As angels are who dwell in heavenly bliss.

  God’s made me so that I am not a creature

  With anything demonic in my nature,

  And this is why these animals you see

  Are happy to associate with me—

  My nature’s to be sensitive and kind,

  If you can’t see this you’ve a wicked mind!

  Since self-regard corrupts the soul, I pray

  That when my eyes see me they look away—

  Better the evil eye’s fell influence

  Should light on you with cruel malevolence,

  Than that you ever come to idolize

  Yourself with foolishly admiring eyes.

  A madman’s one who puts his trust and hopes

  In earthly shelters tied with worldly ropes,

  And I’ve tried hard to loose these ropes, to find

  A way to leave earth’s compass points behind.

  I have a permit to depart, to leave

  This village147 where I waste away and grieve—

  My ship is sinking and its sail has gone

  And I have every reason to move on;

  Before the waves engulf it I bestow

  Upon the waters all I have, and go.

  But now the dance of my long journey starts,

  Hindrances block my soul as she departs,

  Since it is hard to make the soul dispense

  With all she’s known of earthly elements.

  Glorious the Friend whose voice demands your soul,

  Glorious to place within His hands your soul!

  You stand alone before Him, and your task

  Is to present the soul for which He’ll ask.

  *

  “You think I’ll take the bait and step into

  This worldly trap? That’s what you think I’ll do?

  That I shall grab the hook that pulls me down

  Into delusion’s seas where I shall drown?

  I struggle to escape this barren land,

  This arid wilderness of thorns and sand,

  And not as one who’s perished but as one

  Whose manliness is proved by what he’s done.

  You’re trapped within a well, and to be freed

  A rope to haul you out is what you need—

  What man within this well, when sorrows seize him,

  Escapes unless he grasps the rope that frees him?

  That rope is the belovèd’s hair, each strand

  Of which is held within another’s hand.

  *

  “The state I’m in is wise and sensible

  Although fools think it’s reprehensible,

  It’s licit, there’s no reason to reproach it,

  Safer than all, no evils can approach it.

  The heavens rain down sorrows on my head

  As if to prove that I were better dead,

  As if to bring my soul into the light

  And blanch it like an almond that turns white;

  My soul, that is a black child I must save

  And resurrect from its terrestrial grave.

  And since God’s given me this task, my role

  Is to embrace these hardships heart and soul—

  The man who sold sour grapes was right to say

  To someone who sold figs, ‘What better way

  Of living could there be than ours, my brother,

  And who would ever wish for any other?’

  And men who won’t accept their roles will be

  Just as morose with others they might see.

  *

  “I aim my arrow as I should, I know,

  But something falters as I draw my bow,

  The treasury’s before me, but alas,

  My key to it is made of fragile glass,

  In fear there’s always hope, and hope is rare

  Without fear’s shadow also being there.

  I’m in this ruined place148 as one who lives

  Cut off from all my friends and relatives;

  I don’t indulge in gossip or devise

  Ways to live carelessly by telling lies,

  And long before death cries, ‘Rise up, move on,

  The fatal caravan will soon be gone!’

  I’m manumitted and no more a slave,

  I leave this grave by going to my grave;149

  This is the only madness I can see—

  If this is truly madness—that’s in me.”

  *

  He scattered words like jewels, like a bequest

  That’s sca
ttered from an opened treasure chest,

  And Zayd sat listening there, bewildered, dazed,

  Reduced to wondering silence and amazed;

  He saw his sprigs were an impertinence

  Beside this springtime of such eloquence—

  He would be civil, to himself he swore

  His lips were bolted shut for evermore.

  Again he was the lovers’ go-between,

  Silent and faithful, as he once had been,

  Their messenger, whose business was to go

  To one, then to the other, to and fro,

  Majnun to Layli, Layli to Majnun,

  As Venus goes between the sun and moon.

  The Death of Layli’s Husband, Ebn Salam

  Whatever happens in the world possesses

  A necessary purpose it addresses,

  All that exists is subject to control,

  Leading it on to its predestined goal.

  A piece of paper has two separate sides,

  When one is visible the other hides;

  On this side are the plans we contemplate,

  On that side are the reckonings of Fate;

  Few writing on one side have any guide

  To what is written on the other side—

  You count so many roses, how they charm you,

  But pick them and their hidden thorns will harm you;

  Going by just their colors and their shapes,

  Who can distinguish sweet from bitter grapes?

  Many are hungry, and they think that when

  They eat a great deal they’ll be well again,

  Although the opposite is also true

  Since overeating can be bad for you,

  And moderate fasting’s often preferable

  To wolfing victuals down until you’re full;

  To sum up, then, just as the proverbs say,

  Appearances can lead us all astray—

  What looks like sherbet can be vinegar

  And often things aren’t what we think they are.

  *

  Layli, whose radiant grace and loveliness

  Brought joy to others, to herself distress,

  A treasure with a serpent coiled around her150

  To keep off any predators who found her,

  Lived like a ruby that remains unknown

  Sequestered in the darkness of a stone,

  A jewel that’s like the moon in an eclipse

  Confined within the dragon’s slavering lips,151

  Her watching husband glad that he controlled her

  And sad that he could do no more than hold her.

  She was a fairy being in her speech

  But locked in iron walls he couldn’t breach;

  She was resourceful, patient, the deceiver