by Muhsin Mahdi
I saw two sleeping, high above the stars,
And wished that they would on my eyelids tread.
“A distant crescent and a rising sun,
A green bough and wild deer divine,” I said.
When he saw them, he said to himself, “By God, they are a handsome pair.” Then he covered their faces again and, going to Nur al-Din’s feet, began to rub them. Nur al-Din awoke and, seeing a venerable old man rubbing his feet, felt embarrassed and, drawing them in, sat up and took the old man’s hand and kissed it, saying, “Uncle, God forbid, and may He reward you!” Shaikh Ibrahim asked, “My son, where do you two come from?” Nur al-Din replied, “Shaikh, we are strangers.” He said, “You are my honored guests. Will you not rise and come with me into the garden to relax and enjoy yourselves?” Nur al-Din asked, “Shaikh, to whom does this garden belong?” The old man, wishing to put them at ease and induce them to enter, replied, “I inherited it from my father. My son, I am inviting you in only so that you may forget your cares, relax, and enjoy yourselves. “When Nur al-Din heard what Shaikh Ibrahim said, he thanked him and, rising together with Anis al-Jalis, followed him into the garden.
They entered through a vaulted gateway that looked like a gateway in Paradise and passed through a bower of trellised boughs overhung with vines bearing grapes of various colors, the red like rubies, the black like Abyssinian faces, and the white, which hung between the red and the black, like pearls between red coral and black fish. Then they found themselves in the garden, and what a garden! There they saw all manner of things, “in singles and in pairs.” The birds sang all kinds of songs: the nightingale warbled with touching sweetness, the pigeon cooed plaintively, the thrush sang with a human voice, the lark answered the ringdove with harmonious strains, and the turtledove filled the air with melodies. The trees were laden with all manner of ripe fruits: pomegranates, sweet, sour, and sour-sweet; apples, sweet and wild; and Hebron plums as sweet as wine, whose color no eyes have seen and whose flavor no tongue can describe.
But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she lapsed into silence. Then Dinarzad said to her sister, “What a strange and entertaining story!” Shahrazad replied, “What is this compared with what I shall tell you tomorrow night if the king spares me and lets me live!”
THE TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTEENTH NIGHT
The following night Shahrazad said:
I heard, O happy King, that when Nur al-Din looked at the beautiful garden, it pleased him and delighted him and reminded him of the happy times he used to spend with his friends and companions. He turned to the old man and said, “Shaikh, what is your name?” He replied, “My name is Ibrahim.” Nur al-Din said, “Shaikh Ibrahim, by God, this is a beautiful garden. May the Almighty God bless you with it. O Shaikh Ibrahim, you have already been kind enough to invite us to your place, and we cannot allow ourselves to demand any more from you, but take these two dinars and get us some bread and meat and the like.” Ibrahim was glad to take the two dinars, saying to himself, “They will not eat more than ten dirhams’ worth, and I will keep the rest.” Then the old man went out and bought them plenty of good food.
In the meantime Nur al-Din and Anis al-Jalis went and walked around, enjoying the garden, until, as it had been foreordained, they came to the caliph’s palace, which was called the Palace of Statues. When they saw its beauty and stateliness, they wanted to enter, but they could not. When Shaikh Ibrahim returned from the market, Nur al-Din asked him, “Shaikh Ibrabim, haven’t you said that the garden belongs to you?” He replied, “Yes.” Nur al-Din asked again, “Then to whom does this palace belong?” The old man said to himself, “If I say that the palace does not belong to me, they will ask me to explain how so.” So he replied, “My son, the palace belongs to me too.” Nur al-Din said, “Shaikh Ibrahim, we are your guests and this palace is your place, yet you don’t open it and invite us in to see it.” The old man, who felt embarrassed and duty-bound, disappeared for a while, then returned with a big key, opened the palace door, and said, “Please, come in.” Then he led them through the palace until they came to the elevated hall. When Nur al-Din saw the windows, the hanging lamps, and the candelabras, he recalled his former parties and exclaimed to the old man, “By God, this is a beautiful place!”
Then they sat and ate until they were satisfied. After they washed their hands, Nur al-Din went to one of the windows and, opening it, called out to Anis al-Jalis, who joined him to look at the trees laden with all kinds of fruits. Then Nur al-Din turned to the old man and said, “Shaikh, do you have anything to drink?” The old man replied, “My son, why do you wish to drink after you have already eaten? People usually drink before they eat.” Nur al-Din said, “This drink people take after they eat.” The old man exclaimed, “You don’t mean wine?” Nur al-Din replied, “Yes, I do.” The old man said, “My son, God forbid; I have made the Holy Pilgrimage thirteen times and I don’t even mention the word.” Nur al-Din said, “Let me say one word.” The old man said, “O my son, say it.” Nur al-Din said, “If that ass tied in the corner is cursed, will the curse fall on you?” The old man replied, “No.” Nur al-Din said, “Then take these two dinars and these two dirhams, ride that ass, and go to the wineshop. Stand at a distance, and when a customer comes, call him and say to him, ‘Take these two dirhams for yourself and buy me two good flagons of wine with these two dinars.’ When he buys the wine and comes out of the wineshop, say to him, ‘Place the wine in the saddlebag and set it on the ass,’ and when he does it, drive the ass back, and we will unload the wine. This way you will neither touch it nor be dirtied or defiled by it.” When the old man heard Nur al-Din’s words, he laughed and said, “My son, by God, I have never met anyone wittier or more charming than you.”
The old man did what Nur al-Din asked, and when he bought the wine and came back, Nur al-Din and Anis al-Jalis rose and unloaded it. Then Nur al-Din said to him, “Shaikh, we are in your charge and you have to bring us what we need.” The old man asked, “My son, such as?” Nur al-Din replied, “Bring us from your storerooms the necessary wine service, utensils, and the like.” The old man gave them the keys to the storerooms and cupboards and said, “Take out what you need, while I get you some fruits.”
But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she lapsed into silence. Then Dinarzad said to her sister, “What a strange and entertaining story!” Shahrazad replied, “What is this compared with what I shall tell you tomorrow night if the king spares me and lets me live!”
THE TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTEENTH NIGHT
The following night Shahrazad said:
I heard, O happy King, that Shaikh Ibrahim said, “Take out what you need.” Then Nur-al-Din opened all the storerooms and cupboards and took out whatever he needed and desired, while the old man brought them all kinds of fruits and flowers. Then Anis al-Jalis proceeded to prepare the table, arranging the cups and beakers and the gold and silver utensils of all shapes and the nuts and fruits, and when everything was ready, they sat to carouse and drink. Nur al-Din filled a cup and, turning to Anis al-Jalis, said, “Our journey has proved most fortunate by coming to this garden,” and recited the following verses:
O what a lovely and a perfect day,
What charm, what joy, and what a total bliss!
My right hand holds the cup, my left the moon;
Why heed the one who censures me for this?
Then he drank with Anis al-Jalis until the day departed and night descended. the old man returned to see whether they needed anything else from him. He stood at the door and, addressing Nur al-Din, said, “My lord, by God, this is a happy day, for you have honored me with your presence, as the poet says:
If the house could know what has visited,
It would rejoice and kiss the very dust,
As if to say, ‘Only the generous
Has by his gifts such welcome merited.’”
Nur al-Din, who was drunk by now, replied, “O Shaikh Ibrahim, far be it from you to be honored by the likes of us. By God, we have imposed on your
goodness and fully enjoyed your generosity.”
Anis al-Jalis turned to her lord and said to him, “My lord Nur al-Din, I wonder what will happen if we make Shaikh Ibrahim drink?” He asked her, “By my life, can you?” She replied, “Yes, by your life, I can.” He asked her, “Damn it, how?” She replied, “My lord, invite him and press him until he comes in and sits with us. Then drink a cup and pretend to fall asleep and let me handle the rest.” When Nur al-Din heared Anis al-Jalis’s words, he turned to Shaikh Ibrahim and said to him, “Shaikh Ibrahim, is this how people behave?” The old man replied, “How so, my son?” Nur al-Din said, “We are your guests, yet you refuse to sit with us to entertain us with your conversation and help us while away the night.” Shaikh Ibrahim looked at these two, as the wine took hold of them, and their cheeks flushed, their foreheads perspired, their eyes flirted, and their hair became disheveled, and said to himself, “What is the harm in sitting with them, and when will I again meet people like them?” He entered and sat in the corner, but Nur al-Din said to him, “By my life, you must come and sit with us.” The old man joined them and Nur al-Din drank the cup and lay down, making the old man think that he had fallen asleep. Then Anis al-Jalis turned to the old man and said, “See how he treats me!” The old man asked her, “What is the matter with him?” She replied, “He always drinks a little and falls asleep, leaving me all alone, with none to keep me company.” As the old man began to weaken, she filled a cup and said, “By my life, be kind to me and drink.” The old man took it and drank it off, and she filled a second cup and he drank it off too, saying, “This is enough.” But she said, “‘It is all the same whether it is one or one hundred,’” and gave him the third cup, which he drank off. Then she filled the fourth cup and gave it to him, and he was about to drink it, when Nur al-Din sat up.
But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she lapsed into silence.
THE TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTEENTH NIGHT
The following night Shahrazad said:
I heard, O happy King, that the girl filled the fourth cup and gave it to the old man, and he was about to drink it, when Nur al-Din sat up and said, “Shaikh, what is this? Did I not invite you to drink, but you refused, saying ‘I have forsworn drinking’?” The old man, who was embarrassed, replied, “It is not my fault.” Nur al-Din laughed and they resumed their drinking. Then the girl whispered to Nur al-Din, “Drink, but don’t entreat him to drink, and I will show you what he will do.” When the two of them began to drink and carouse by themselves, the old man looked at them and asked, “What is this? Why do you give me nothing to drink?” and when they heard this, they burst out laughing. Then they drank and gave him to drink, well into the night. When half of the night was gone, the girl said, “I will go and light one of these candles.” The old man said, “Do, but light only one.” But she rose, lighted all the candles, and sat down again. A little later Nur al-Din asked the old man, “Will you do me a favor? Let me light one of these lamps.” The old man replied, “Very well, but light only one.” But Nur al-Din rose and lighted all the lamps, setting the palace ablaze with light. The old man, who was intoxicated by now, saying to them, “You are more playful than I,” rose and opened all eighty windows.
As it had been foreordained, the caliph was at that moment seated at one of the palace windows overlooking the Tigris River and, chancing to turn his head, saw the Palace of Statues ablaze with light. He was furious and, summoning the Vizier Ja’far, looked at him angrily and said, “You dog of vizier, has Baghdad been taken from me and you do not tell me?” Ja’far replied, “O Commander of the Faithful, by God, by God, these are harsh words.” The caliph said, “You dog, if Baghdad was not taken from me, the palace would not be lighted and the windows would not be opened, for who would dare do such a thing unless the caliphate has been taken from me?” Ja’far, who was trembling with fear, said, “O Commander of the Faithful, who told you that the Palace of Statues was lighted and its windows opened?” The caliph said, “Damn you, come here and look.” Ja’far went to the window and, looking toward the garden, found the palace blazing in the darkness of the night and, thinking that something must have happened to the keeper Ibrahim and wishing to make an excuse for him, said, “O Commander of the Faithful, Shaikh Ibrahim came to me last Friday and said, ‘I wish to circumcise my sons during the Commander of the Faithful’s lifetime and yours,’ and when I asked him, ‘What do you want?’ he replied, ‘The caliph’s permission to hold the festival in the palace.’ I said to him, ‘Go and circumcise them, and I will tell the caliph when I see him.’ But I forgot to tell you, O Commander of the Faithful.” The caliph said, “Ja’far, I had thought that you had committed one offense against me, but now I find that you have committed two, first by failing to tell me, second by failing to understand what he really wanted. For he came and told you only to ask indirectly for some money to help him out with the expenses of the circumcision, yet you neither gave him any nor told me about him so that I might have given it to him myself.” Ja’far replied, “O Commander of the Faithful, I was distracted.” The caliph said, “By the tombs of my fathers and forefathers, I will not pass the rest of the night but with him, for it will be to our mutual advantage, his in that my presence will mollify and please him, mine in that I will meet the pious and holy men assembled there.”
But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she lapsed into silence.
THE TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTEENTH NIGHT
The following night Shahrazad said:
I heard, O happy King, that the caliph said to Ja’far, “I will meet the pious men assembled there.” Ja’far said, “It is very late and the gathering is over by now.” The caliph said, “I must go, regardless.” Ja’far was silent, for he was perplexed and did not know what to do.
The caliph rose, as did Ja’far and Masrur the eunuch, and the three left the palace, disguised as merchants, and made their way through the streets of Baghdad until they came to the garden. The caliph went up to the gate and was surprised to find it open and said to Ja’far, “O Ja’far, Shaikh Ibrahim has, contrary to his habit, left the gate open to this hour; he must have been distracted by the festivities.” Then they entered and crossed the garden until they stood before the palace. The caliph said to Ja’far, “I wish to watch them secretly before joining them, so that I may see what they are doing, for I hear neither their voices nor the mendicants’; nor do I hear their hymns to God. These men conduct themselves with great reverence.”
Then he looked around and, seeing a tall tree, said to Ja’far, “This tree is the best, for its branches come near the windows. I will climb it and see what they are doing.” He climbed the tree and moved from branch to branch until he reached one that came up to one of the windows. When he looked through the window, he saw a young man and a young lady who looked like two moons and saw Shaikh Ibrahim holding a wine cup in his hand and heard him say, “O mistress of fair women, wine without song is better left in the jug; the poet says:
Pass round the wine in great and small cups too,
As our two hands with this bright moon we link,
And drink not without song, for ’tis well known
Even the horses need whistling to drink.”
When the caliph saw this, the veins of his eyes bulged with anger and he descended and said to Ja’far, “My eyes have seen the pious men assembled there. Do likewise and climb the tree and look at them, lest you miss their blessings.” When Ja’far heard this, he was puzzled, but he climbed the tree, and when he looked in and saw Shaikh Ibrahim drinking with Nur al-Din and Anis al-Jalis, he turned pale and was sure that he was undone. When he came down and stood before the caliph, the caliph said to him, “Ja’far it is good that we came in time for the circumcision.” But Ja’far, out of embarrassment and fear, was unable to say a word. The caliph asked him, “I wonder who let these two in and how they dared trespass on my palace? But in beauty, the like of this young man and this young lady I have never seen.” Ja’far, hoping to propitiate the caliph, replied, “You
are right, O Commander of the Faithful” The caliph said, “O Ja’far, let us both climb the branch opposite the window and amuse ourselves by watching them carouse.” Then the two climbed up to that branch and, looking through the window, heard the old man say to the girl, “O mistress of fair women, what else do we need for this banquet?” She replied, “Shaikh, if you had some musical instrument, our joy would be complete.”
But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she lapsed into silence.
THE TWO HUNDRED AND NINETEENTH NIGHT
The following, night Shahrazad said:
I heard, O happy King, that Anis al-Jalis replied, “If you had some musical instrument, our joy would be complete.” The old man said, “I do,” and rose to his feet. The caliph asked Ja’far, “What is he going to bring?” Ja’far replied, “O Commander of the Faithful, I do not know.” The old man went out and soon returned with a lute. When the caliph saw the lute, he recognized it as the one belonging to Ishak al-Nadim and said to Ja’far, “Ja’far, this girl is going to play the lute. By the tombs of my fathers and forefathers, if she sings well, I will pardon them and hang you, but if she sings badly, I will hang you all.” Ja’far replied, “O God, let her sing badly!” The caliph asked him, “Why so?” Ja’far replied, “Because if you hang us together, we will entertain each other.” The caliph laughed. Then the girl tuned the lute and began to play a melancholy measure so well that it filled their hearts with yearning and sadness. Then she sang the following verses:
You who rebuff us in love’s misery,
Whatever you do, we deserve the pain.
Of you, for you, to you we do appeal,
You who listen to all those who complain.
Torment us not, we who pity deserve;
Fear the Almighty and yourself restrain.
We fear not that you’ll glory in our death,