The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights: Volume 2
Page 13
Do you not see that the pearl’s colour makes it precious,
While one load of black coal is sold for one dirham?
Those with white faces enter Paradise,
While the black-faced will be crammed into Hell.
In one of the accounts recorded by the devout it is reported that Noah, on whom be peace, once fell asleep while Shem and Ham were sitting by his head. A gust of wind raised his clothes and uncovered his genitals. Ham looked at him and laughed without covering him, while Shem got up and did that. Their father woke and, realizing what his sons had done, he blessed Shem and cursed Ham, as a result of which Shem’s face was whitened, and it is from him that the prophets, the orthodox caliphs and the kings are descended. Ham’s face was blackened; he took flight to the lands of the Abyssinians and the blacks are his descendants. Everyone agrees that the blacks are stupid, as the proverbial saying has it: “How can one find an intelligent black man?” ’
‘Sit down,’ her master told her, ‘this is enough and more than enough.’ He then pointed at the black girl, who got up and, pointing in turn at her white opposite, she said: ‘Don’t you know that among the words of Almighty God revealed to His Prophet and Apostle we find: “By the covering night and the clear day?”* Had night not been greater than day, God would not have sworn by it and given it precedence over day, a point accepted by men of insight and intelligence. Don’t you know that blackness is the ornament of youth and that when white hairs come, pleasures vanish and death is near? Were it not the most important of things, God would not have set it in the kernel of the heart and the pupil of the eye. How well the poet expressed it when he said:
I love the dark ones, because they have
Youth’s colour, the heart’s core, the pupil of the eye.
I have not made a mistake if I forget the whiteness of the white,
For I fear white hair and I fear the winding sheet.
Another said:
The dark are to be set above the white;
It is they who are more worthy of my love.
The dark possess the colour of red lips,
And the white that of the blotch of leprosy.
A third said:
Black she may be, but still her deeds are white,
Like eyes that shine.
Don’t be surprised if love for her has maddened me;
For the root of madness is black bile.
Among shadows my colour is of dark night,
But were it not for darkness moons would not shed light.
Night is the proper time for lovers’ meetings, a favour and a boon, which should be enough to satisfy you. There is nothing like black darkness to shelter lovers from slander and reproach, and nothing like the whiteness of dawn to fill them with fear of disgrace. How many glories belong to blackness and how well the poet expressed it:
I visit while night’s darkness pleads for me
And at the incitement of the dawn I turn away.
Another said:
How many a night have I spent in the beloved’s arms,
And it has sheltered us with its dark locks.
When dawn’s light came to startle me,
I said: “Fire worshippers tell lies.”
Another said:
He visited me, hidden in the robe of night,
Walking quickly thanks to fear and wariness.
I rose to lay my cheek down on his path
Submissively, sweeping away my footprints with my skirts.
The light of the new moon almost put us to shame,
Though it was as thin as the clipping of a fingernail.
I shall not tell you of what happened then;
Think only what is good and do not ask for news.
Another said:
Meet your lover only in the night.
The sun tells tales; night is a panderer.
Another said:
I cannot love a white girl bloated with fat;
My loves are dark and slender.
I am one who mounts on a lean colt
On race day, while another rides an elephant.
Yet another said:
My loved one visited me at night,
And we embraced each other.
We spent the night together,
But dawn arrived too soon.
I ask the Lord my God
To unite us once again
And make the night last as long
As the beloved lies within my arms.
Were I to go on to mention all that has been said in praise of black girls it would take too long and the little that is sufficient is better than the long account that is not complete. As for you, white girl, your colour is that of leprosy and your embraces choke your lovers. It is reported that frost and cold are to be found in hell as torment for the evil-doers, while among the merits of blackness is that the ink used to record God’s word is black, and were it not for the blackness of musk and ambergris there would be no perfume to be carried to kings. So many sources of pride belong to blackness that I cannot mention them all, and how well the poet put it when he said:
Do you not see how high a price is fetched by musk,
While a load of white lime fetches one dirham?
Whiteness in the eye is ugly in a young man,
While black eyes shoot arrows.’
‘Sit down,’ said her master, ‘for that is enough.’ She took her seat and he then pointed at the plump girl, who got up…
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the three hundred and thirty-sixth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that he pointed at the plump girl, who got up and pointed in turn at the slender girl. The plump girl uncovered her legs, her wrists and her belly, revealing its folds and showing off her rounded navel. She then put on a thin shift through which her whole body could be seen and she said: ‘Praise be to Him, Who has created me in this excellent form and has made me beautifully plump like the branch of a tree, adding to my grace and splendour. Praise be to Him, Who has favoured me and ennobled me by mentioning me in His glorious book, where He said, Almighty is He: “He brought a fatted calf,”* and He has made me like an orchard of peaches and pomegranates. Townspeople like to eat fat birds rather than thin ones, while everyone prefers to eat fat meat. How many sources of pride are there for fatness and how excellent are the poet’s lines:
Say farewell to your beloved, for the caravan moves off,
But are you able to say farewell, O man?
When she walks to her neighbour’s tent,
She walks as a plump girl, with no blemishes or weariness.
I have never seen anyone stop at the butcher’s who does not ask him for fat meat, while pleasure, the wise men have said, lies in three things, eating flesh, riding on flesh and inserting flesh into flesh. As for you, thin girl, your legs are those of a sparrow or the poker of an oven. You are the wood on which men are crucified; you are rancid meat, and there is nothing in you to delight the heart. The poet has said of you:
I take refuge with God from having to make love
When it is like rubbing the palm fibres.
Every part of her body has a horn that butts me
When I sleep, and so my body weakens.’
‘Sit down,’ said her master, ‘for that is enough.’ When she had taken her seat he pointed to the thin girl, who got up like the branch of a ban tree, a bamboo shoot or a stalk of sweet basil. She said: ‘Praise be to God, Who has made me beautiful and made union with me the goal of desire, creating me like the branch to which hearts incline. If I get up, I get up lightly, and if I sit, it is with elegance. In jesting I am light-hearted, and my gaiety makes me sweet-natured. I have never found anyone describing his beloved as being “as big as an elephant”, or “like a huge mountain”. Rather, they say: “My beloved is slender with a slim figure.” A small amount of food is enough for me, and I need only a little water to quench my thirst. I am lively when I play,
and mine is a charming disposition. I am more agile than a sparrow and lighter in my movements than a starling. Union with me is what men desire and what brings pleasure to my suitors. My figure is beautiful and my smile lovely. I am like the branch of a ban tree, a bamboo shoot or a stalk of sweet basil. No one can match my beauty, as the poet has said:
I have compared your figure to a twig,
And your form is my good fortune.
I follow after you as a distraught lover,
Fearing the watcher may bring harm on you.
It is those like me who inspire desperate love and who drive lovers to distraction. If my beloved draws me to him, I yield, and if he tries to win my favour, I incline to him rather than turn against him. As for you, fat girl, you eat like an elephant and no amount of food, great or small, can suffice you. When lying with you, your lover can experience no relaxation nor any way of resting with you. Your huge belly stops him enjoying you and the thickness of your thighs prevents him from possessing your vagina. What beauty is there in your thick body and what smooth grace is there in your coarseness? Fat meat is fit only for the butcher and there is nothing in it that calls for praise. If anyone jokes with you, you are angry, and if a man plays with you, you become gloomy. When you try to act the coquette, you snort; you pant when you walk; when you eat, you never have enough. You weigh more than a mountain and you are worse than ruin and disaster. You cannot move and you bring no blessing. You want to do nothing but eat and sleep. When you piss it is like spurting water and when you shit you are like a bursting wine skin or an elephant changed into a woman. When you go to a lavatory you need someone to wash your private parts for you and to pluck the hairs there, and this is the height of laziness and the sign of weak-mindedness. You have nothing to boast about and it is of you that the poet has said:
She is heavy as a bladder inflated with urine,
With haunches like mountainous pillars.
When she takes a walk and waddles in the west,
She crushes the ground so that the east is shaken.’
‘Sit down,’ said her master, ‘for that is enough.’ When she had taken her seat he pointed to the yellow girl, who rose to her feet and praised and glorified Almighty God, calling down praise and blessings on His Prophet, the best of His creation. Then, pointing at the dark girl, she said…
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the three hundred and thirty-seventh night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that the yellow girl rose to her feet and praised and glorified Almighty God. Then, pointing at the dark girl, she said: ‘It is I whose description is to be found in the Quran. The Merciful God, when describing my colour, preferred it to all others where He referred, Almighty is He, in His clear book to “a bright yellow heifer whose colour delights those who see it”.* My beauty and grace are the ultimate perfection and my colour is a wonder, being that of the dinar, the stars, the moon and the apple, while the colour of saffron surpasses all others. As my colour is remarkable, so my shape is beautiful and exotic. My body is soft, my price is high and I encompass all beauty. In the world my colour, like pure gold, is rare. My glories are many and it was of a girl like me that the poet said:
She is splendidly yellow like the sun,
Or like dinars, beautiful to see.
Saffron cannot match even part of her brightness;
No, and her appearance does outshine the moon.
Now I shall begin on your dispraise, dark girl. Your colour is that of the buffalo, and people recoil at your sight. Whatever is your colour is blamed; if it is in food, then the food is poisoned; this is the colour of flies and of ugly dogs; it is indistinct and is one of the signs of mourning. I have never heard of dark gold, dark pearls or dark jewels. When you go to a lavatory, your colour changes, and when you come out, ugliness is added to ugliness. You cannot be recognized as black nor described as white. There are no points in your favour, as the poet has said of you:
Her shade is that of soot; its dusty colour
Is like earth trampled by the feet of a courier.
Whenever my eyes fix on her,
My distress and discomfort worsen.’
‘Sit down,’ said her master, ‘for that is enough.’ When she had taken her seat he pointed to the dark girl, who was beautiful and graceful, well formed and possessing the perfection of loveliness. Her body was soft, her hair jet-black, her figure symmetrical and her smooth cheeks rosy red. Her eyes were kohl-dark and she had an eloquent tongue. In addition to her beautiful face, her waist was slender and her buttocks heavy. She said: ‘Praise be to God, Who has created me in such a way that I can neither be blamed as being fat nor humiliated as being too thin. I am not leprous white nor of a colicky yellow nor sooty black. Rather, my colour is beloved by men of intelligence. All poets in every tongue eulogize it and place it above all others, as the qualities of brown win praise. How eloquently the poet said:
Were you to elucidate the qualities of brunettes,
You would not look at the white or at the red.
Their words are eloquent and their glances coquettish;
It is they who teach sorcery and magic to Harut.
Another said:
Who will bring me a brunette whose flexible body recalls
Long, brown and graceful Samhari lances,
With quiet glances and silken cheeks,
Preaching sermons to the heart of the emaciated lover?
Another said:
I would ransom with my life a dark one, a fragment of whose colour
Leaves white behind and vies with the moon in glory.
Were he to have even as much white as this,
His beauty would be exchanged for disgrace.
It is not the wine he pours that has made me drunk;
It is his locks of hair that have intoxicated all mankind.
His beauties envied one another, but then
Each wished to be the down upon his cheek.
Another said:
Why should I not incline to the down appearing on the cheek
Of a dark one, straight as a dusky spear,
While poets have ascribed all beauty that there is
To the dark spots seen on the water lilies?
I have seen lovers, all of them, risking disgrace
Because of a mole found under a dark eye.
Are the censurers then to blame me about one,
Who is all the colour of a mole? Rid me of these fools.
I am well formed and admirably shaped; my colour is desired by kings and loved by rich and poor alike. I am delicate, light, beautiful and graceful, with a soft body and a high price. I represent perfect loveliness, together with culture and eloquence. I am pretty in appearance, a fluent speaker, light-hearted and graceful when I play. As for you, you are like a Bab al-Luq marrow, yellow and all full of veins. Bad luck to you, pot of watercress, rusty copper, owl face, tasting like the food of hell. Whoever sleeps with you will be brought to his grave by shortage of breath. You have no claim to beauty and it is about those like you that the poet has said:
Her yellowness grows worse, although she is not ill;
This constricts my chest and pains my head.
If my soul will not repent, I shall humiliate it
By kissing her face, so losing all my teeth.’
When she had finished, her master told her to sit down as she had said enough.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the three hundred and thirty-eighth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that when she had finished, her master told her to sit down as she had said enough. He then saw to it that all of them were reconciled to one another, and he clothed them in splendid robes and adorned them with jewels from both land and sea. Muhammad continued: ‘Never have I seen in any place or at any time more lovely girls than these, Commander of the Faithful.’
W
hen al-Ma’mun heard his story he approached Muhammad to ask whether he knew where they and their master were to be found, adding: ‘And will you be able to buy them from him for me?’
‘Commander of the Faithful,’ Muhammad replied, ‘I hear that their master is passionately fond of them and cannot bear to be parted from them.’ ‘Take him ten thousand dinars for each of them, a total of sixty thousand,’ said al-Ma’mun, ‘carry the money with you; go off to his house and buy them from him.’ Muhammad set off with the money and when he got there, he told the girls’ master that the Commander of the Faithful wanted to buy them from him at that price. In order to please the caliph the man agreed to the sale and sent him the girls. When they came to him, he had an elegant salon prepared for them where he would sit with them as they all drank together, and he was filled with astonishment at their beauty and grace, as well as their contrasting colours and their eloquence.
Things went on like that for some time until their former master, who had sold them, could no longer bear to be parted from them. He sent a note to al-Ma’mun complaining of the pangs of love that he felt for his slave girls, and in it were these lines:
You robbed me of six fair and lovely girls;
Give these six beauties greetings now from me.
They were my ears, my eyes and my whole life;
They were my food, my drink and all my joy.
I shall never forget my union with their loveliness.
Now that they are gone, sweet sleep has fled from me.
Alas for the length of my distress and for my tears;
Would that I had not been created among men.
Eyelids like bows adorned the eyes that shot at me.