Layli and Majnun

  Roses seemed bowls of wine, and nightingales

  Sang to them lovelorn and lamenting tales,

  Musicians plucked sweet strings and doves were there

  Cooing what seemed a Zoroastrian prayer.182

  A throne was set up near a stream that played

  Gently beneath the overarching shade,

  Brocades so lovely that they would suffice

  To decorate the halls of paradise

  Adorned the throne, and on these splendid covers

  Sat the transfigured and contented lovers;

  From head to foot they were a dazzling sight

  Adorned like houris with celestial light,

  Wine in their hands, lost in their shared, sweet story,

  Surrounded by the spring’s voluptuous glory—

  At times they’d drink their wine in little sips,

  At times they’d gently kiss each other’s lips,

  At times they’d talk of all they’d been denied,

  At times they’d lean together, side by side.

  Next to the throne an old man stood, and he

  Poured offerings on them intermittently;183

  Zayd asked, “Who are these two who seem divine,

  Who sit in Eram’s garden184 drinking wine,

  Whose wishes are fulfilled in this new home—

  How is it that they’re here? Where are they from?”

  The old man answered him, but silently,

  “These are two friends for all eternity,

  He is the world’s just king, she is the best

  Of women, their full moon, the loveliest,

  And she belongs to night,185 since she’s the moon,

  And he, the king, is always called Majnun;

  They were two unpierced rubies, prisoners of

  Fidelity’s sweet casket, sealed by love.

  Thwarted when in the world, they knew no peace,

  It seemed their sorrows there would never cease;

  Here they see no such grief, and they will be

  As now you see them, everlastingly.

  Those disillusioned in that world are given

  The reparations that you see in heaven;

  In that world they knew sorrow, and in this

  For all eternity they live in bliss.”

  *

  When morning’s candle lit the flame that burned

  The harvest of the night, and day returned,

  Zayd woke up from his dream-state and revealed

  Secrets that hitherto had been concealed.

  He said, “Whoever knows that world will tread

  On this world’s joys and leave them here for dead;

  This world is fleeting, empty, and unsure,

  That world is everlasting, safe, and pure—

  Better to choose eternity than be

  Consigned to dust and vain futility;

  Beware, see that the rose for which you’re born

  Does not transmogrify into a thorn,

  Don’t seek for jewels here that you’ll never find,

  It’s not in this world that such jewels are mined.

  Commit yourself to love, and so renew

  Your spirit, and escape from what was you—

  If love is like an arrow, see you hit

  The longed-for target, don’t fall short of it.

  Love will undo the tangled knot of being,

  Love saves us from the whirlpool of self-seeing,

  Love’s sorrows are a medicine that will give

  Health to the soul, not harm, and help it live;

  Love makes life’s bitter draughts taste sweet when she

  Urges them on us so appealingly,

  And though they disconcert a man, he takes them,

  Knowing they’re good, since it is love that makes them.”

  *

  This sea of words is done, my boat is beached,

  Eden, my destination, has been reached.

  And now thanks be to God, O Nezami,

  Your poem’s reached its end and you are free!

  May reading it be like a key that brings

  Solutions to obscure and stubborn things.

  It was a joy to start, may you commend

  The way that I have brought it to its end.

  Notes

  1. Hear what the teller . . . verse’s thread: Throughout his poem Nezami frequently opens a new section by referring either to himself as the poem’s author or to a previous teller of the tale (sometimes it’s not wholly clear which is meant and the ambiguity is perhaps deliberate). Gorgani opens his romance Vis and Ramin in a similar way, but after this initial mention of himself he refrains from such remarks as he begins new sections of his poem. Nezami’s more frequent interpolations that draw our attention to the poem’s composition seem of a piece with his insistence that we are reading something composed, elaborated, a work of art, rather than simply the recounting of an old tale.

  2. Lord of the Amir tribe: The Banu Amir were an ancient tribe that lived in Najd, in what is now Saudi Arabia.

  3. Wealthy as Korah: Korah is the Qarun of the Qor’an, a contemporary of Musa (Moses) known for his fabulous wealth. Nezami opens his poem by describing the great wealth of the king who is the nearest male relative of his hero (Majnun), and comparing him to Korah/Qarun. Gorgani’s Vis and Ramin opens in exactly the same way, by describing the great wealth of the king who is the nearest male relative of the tale’s hero, and comparing him to Korah / Qarun.

  4. A dark blue dye: applied to a new born child to protect it from the evil eye.

  5. Like tulips held in violets’ dark embrace: Violets are a common metaphor for thick, glossy, black hair.

  6. a few girls shared: Gorgani’s hero and heroine in Vis and Ramin are also classmates as children. The motif of young girls and boys being educated together will probably have been strange to both Gorgani and Nezami, and it’s not clear where it comes from; it is likely to be pre-Islamic, and perhaps Parthian as Gorgani’s romance had a Parthian origin. It doesn’t seem to have been a Greek motif, as Greek girls were not normally educated with boys, and it does not crop up in any of the Hellenistic novels that show striking similarities to medieval Persian romances.

  7. yet a Turk / In stealing hearts and suchlike handiwork: Turks had a reputation for beauty, but also as formidable opponents in both love and war.

  8. a charm against disaster: literally a Qor’anic verse placed in an amulet to give protection.

  9. her name / was Layli: The Arabic word for “night” is layl, and Nezami is punning on his heroine’s name, which could be read in Persian as “of the night.”

  10. basil’s green to gold: The color of the sky just before dawn is quite often referred to in Persian poetry as “green.” One of Hafez’s best-known ghazals begins: “I saw the green fields of the sky / And there a sickle moon . . .” For basil, see note 95.

  11. As beautiful as Joseph . . . and like Zuleikha’s maids / Who cut their careless hands with sharpened blades: The story of Joseph (Yusuf) and Zuleikha is told in the Qor’an (although there the female protagonist, who came to be called Zuleikha in later commentaries, is unnamed). Zuleikha is the woman known in the Bible as Potiphar’s wife; Joseph is a servant in her household with whom she falls in love, and whom she attempts to seduce. In Islamic literature Joseph/Yusuf is the pattern of male beauty, and Layli is being compared to him as his female equivalent. At one point in the Qor’anic story Zuleikha’s maids are peeling oranges when Yusuf enters the room; the maids are so overcome by his beauty that their knives slip and they cut their hands. The story as a whole was much loved by Sufi writers, who gave it a mystical interpretation: Zuleikha is the human soul “married” to the world, but in love with the beauty of God (Yusuf). As Nezami’s Layli
and Majnun proceeds, it contains an increasing number of references to or suggestions of Sufism, which has led to its being seen by many of its interpreters (though not all) as primarily a Sufi tale; this is the poem’s first such reference. For more on this, see the Introduction, this page.

  12. sallow . . . golden yellow: A sallow or yellow color was associated with sickness and misery.

  13. the scent / Of musk stays richly strong and redolent: It became conventional in Persian poetry that all deer (not only musk deer) smell of musk.

  14. The sack ripped open and the donkey fell: a proverb based on a load carried by a donkey bursting open and thus meaning “everything fell apart.” Here the “everything” is Qais’s (Majnun’s) self-control.

  15. the bright / New moon: that is, Layli.

  16. Layli’s street . . . her door: The door and the street imply that Layli is living in a house; elsewhere in the poem she lives in a tent. In Nezami’s Arabic source her home would certainly have been a tent; Nezami has taken Layli’s “house” (later on she goes up on its roof) from Persian romances, based on pre-Islamic Persian tales (not ones that are Arabic in origin, as Layli and Majnun is) that preceded him, especially Gorgani’s Vis and Ramin. See also the Introduction, p. xxii.

  17. Kay Khosrow: a legendary pre-Islamic king who is one of the noblest heroes of the Persian epic the Shahnameh.

  18. Majnun whose earring marked him as a slave: An earring, indicating to whom he or she belonged, was worn by slaves.

  19. burned rue: Rue is still burnt in present-day Iran as a prophylactic against misfortune.

  20. cleanse his rose of grime and dust: that is, put things right for his son.

  21. Seyed Amiri: Qais’s (Majnun’s) father.

  22. Had left both this world and the next behind: a hint of the poem’s possibly Sufi implications.

  23. Vameq whose search for Ozra: Vameq and Ozra (sometimes transliterated as “Azra”; “Ozra” is the modern pronunciation) was the name of a romance by the poet Onsori, (c.961–c.1039) of which only a few hundred lines have survived, describing the love between Vameq (the young man) and Ozra (his beloved). The story is a version of the Greek story Metiochus and Parthenope, and in most cases retains recognizable variants of the Greek names of characters and places.

  24. to kill himself: again a phrase that can be taken to have a Sufi meaning, as “killing the (animal) self” is one of Sufism’s fundamental concerns. As is often the case in Nezami’s poetry, the phrase can be interpreted literally, or figuratively (which implies the Sufi meaning), or both.

  25. the evening star in Yemen’s night: Stars were said to have an exceptional brilliance and beauty in the night sky over Yemen.

  26. and chain me: a reference to the fact that lunatics were often chained up, especially if they were considered to be dangerous.

  27. Why is your neck encircled with such chains: The “chains” around Layli’s neck are her curls; Majnun’s speech means: “Why are you chained up (as a madman is)? I am the madman and the chains should be around my neck, not yours.”

  28. in the ka‘bah’s shade: The ka‘bah is the black stone that marks the geographical center of Islam, and around which pilgrims perambulate.

  29. knocker on a door . . . love’s bright earring: The moment merges two metaphors commonly used to describe a lover: Majnun is like a ring-shaped knocker, in that he stays as close as possible to the beloved’s door but can never get past it, and he is like a slave who wears an earring denoting that he belongs to his beloved (see note 18).

  30. and give / Them all to her as added years to live: This is a traditional rhetorical request, that God take the years one has left to live and assign them to someone one loves, implying that this person is loved more than one’s own life. Perhaps the most famous instance of this occurred when the first Moghul emperor, Babur, circled the bed of his sick son, Homayun, offering to die in his place—that is, to “give” his remaining years of life to his son.

  31. murmured sound . . . like Zoroastrians when they’re praying: Zoroastrian prayer is commonly described in medieval Persian poetry as “murmured”; the invocation of Zoroastrianism at this moment implies that Majnun is in some sense forsaking his religion. It also ties what is essentially an Arab story to Nezami’s Persian cultural milieu.

  32. the page he’d read there: a metaphor for the enlightenment Majnun’s father hoped his son would receive from visiting the ka‘bah.

  33. hoping to see dust rise . . . and clouds the skies: Dust rising from the road would mean someone, possibly Majnun, was approaching.

  34. better to be a fox . . . wolf that’s vulnerable: Both Layli and Majnun are being compared to hungry animals: Majnun’s hunger is literal, Layli’s is metaphorical (her hunger to be with Majnun). As is often the case, Nezami then expands this moment in his tale to make a general observation (here about hunger and its opposite).

  35. Freed from his self: a phrase that suggests a Sufi interpretation.

  36. And fall as quickly as his fortunes fell: Nezami often employs syllepsis, the rhetorical device of using a word with both a metaphorical and a literal meaning, as he does here with the verb “fall.” Only occasionally, as in this instance, is it possible to reproduce this in English.

  37. Be drunk, but not from wine, seek something higher, / And love desire while feeling no desire: the sentiments of Sufism.

  38. I slap my thighs: that is, in exasperation.

  39. It’s drinking celery for a scorpion’s sting: A concoction made from celery was a folk remedy for various ailments, but it was believed to be fatal if drunk after the patient was stung by a scorpion (See Aliakbar Dehkhoda, Loghatnameh ed. M. Mo’in and J. Shahidi (Tehran: Tehran University Publications, 1372/1993), 11:16017).

  40. When I’m a bird that’s famous for my laughter: A partridge’s “laughter” and misplaced confidence in itself were proverbial. Hafez ends a ghazal with a similar reference: “Hafez, you’ve seen a strutting partridge / Whose cry sounds like a laugh—/ He’s careless of the hawk’s sharp claws / By which he’ll be undone.”

  41. Najd: that is, Layli’s home.

  42. the seven climes: that is, the whole inhabited earth.

  43. Roses and honey mixed in one confection: Rosewater and honey are still ingredients in Middle Eastern confectionery.

  44. A pheasant perched there in its topmost place: Pheasants were thought of as particularly beautiful birds and for this reason were sometimes invoked as a metaphor for a beautiful person, or a beautiful face. This is an example of how Persian imagery tends to be more abstract, and less “concrete,” than its English equivalent. The face and the pheasant share the quality of beauty and so one can stand in for the other; the fact that they don’t actually look similar, which would seem necessary in an equivalent English metaphor, is irrelevant.

  45. She went up on the roof . . . Hoping to see Majnun: This implies that Layli is living in a house or palace, rather than in a tent; see note 16. The source of this scene is probably the palace in which Gorgani’s heroine Vis (in Vis and Ramin) lives; Vis frequently goes up on the palace roof hoping to glimpse her lover Ramin. Similarly in Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh, the princess Rudabeh waits for her future husband Zal while watching from her parents’ palace roof.

  46. While fire and water: Fire is her suffering (compared a few lines previously to “A trembling candle flame”), water is her tears.

  47. An arrow . . . a spindle spinning round and round: A spindle moves round and round in one place; an arrow goes from one place to another. As an emblem of a woman’s traditional role in the cultures from which the poem comes, the spindle implies that a woman stays in one place (at home), repetitively doing the same things. Layli decides she will be like an arrow (that is, in her culture’s terms, like a man) and make active efforts to reach, or at least get in touch with, Majnun, and so change her situation.

  48. And virgin as hers
elf, and as demure: Layli’s virginity while she is unmarried (and after she is married) is much insisted upon throughout the poem. It might be thought that this is simply typical of narratives from the Middle Ages, but it is hardly a matter of interest to Nezami’s Persian-speaking predecessors (except for Ayyuqi), and neither Ferdowsi nor Gorgani make much, if any, fuss about it (in their poems it matters only that the woman’s “true” love be the first and only person to sleep with her; whether this happens in or outside of marriage seems hardly relevant). The insistence on virginity is a feature of the Arab story from which Nezami’s poem derives, and it is significant that Ayyuqi’s poem Varqeh and Golshah, in which virginity is also a matter of concern, also had an Arab origin. See the Introduction, p. xi.

  49. wrote / In blood: As is quite often the case in Nezami’s poetry, it’s not wholly clear whether this is meant literally or as a metaphor (as a metaphor, “blood” can mean “suffering,” hence “she wrote / In blood” could mean “she suffered as she wrote”).

  50. The lowly violet’s . . . glossy curls: See note 5.

  51. The box tree’s leaves: The box tree (shemshad) is quite frequently mentioned in Persian poetry as a metaphor for a tall, slim, beautiful young person of either sex. Left untrimmed, it can grow up to thirty feet (ten meters) high.

  52. She seemed a Turk: referring to the Turks’ reputation for beauty; see note 7.

  53. This houri: Houris are the beautiful angels who welcome the faithful into the Islamic paradise.

  54. Eram’s enchanting paths and trees: Eram was a legendary pre-Islamic garden of great beauty. Nezami often uses the word as a synonym for paradise.

  55. Tall box tree: See note 51.

  56. the pearl sought out her shell: that is, Layli went to her room (to be alone), which again suggests she is living in a building rather than a tent.

  57. Provide more livestock than they’d ever need: Livestock as a form of wealth, and especially as a bride price, is an indication of the story’s pastoral origin.

  58. sugar will be sprinkled as you’re wed: Ground sugar is sprinkled over the bride and groom during a traditional Persian marriage ceremony.

  59. Pleased with the promise Layli’s father’d made: The line implies that Ebn Salam had accompanied the go-between on the visit to Layli’s parents, even though he wasn’t present during the actual conversation. Etiquette required that a proposal of marriage should be made and discussed by third parties (here a parent and a go-between).