Layla and Majnun by Nezami (Translated by Peter J. Chelkowski, further editing by Farshad Torkashvand) Part 2

 

... and rocks. "Let Layla's father threaten, for I fear him not! What lover fears a sword?" he asked. "He who goes in search of his beloved cares not for his life!"

So Majnun sang his songs, and the people came to hear him from villages and towns both near and far. They copied down the words, even as they were moved to tears, and carried the poems away with them. And when they knew love themselves, it was with Majnun's words that they sang of the stirrings and the passion of their hearts, for Majnun spoke for lovers everywhere.

Meanwhile, Layla grew more and more beautiful. Indeed, she was the most beautiful maiden in all of Arabia. But every day, she grew more sorrowful, for from that evening when she had seen Majnun in the moonlight, she had never ceased to love him. From sunrise until sunset, she secretly whispered his name, and in the darkness of night, weeping and sighing, she would go to the door of her tent and listen for his step and watch for his shadow. But she heard only the desert wind, stirring the sand and leaves of the distant trees. She did not have to wait long before she heard his love poems, for they were on the lips of every child in the bazaars and every traveler in the desert. By day, she would repeat them to herself; then, in the secrecy of night, she would fashion songs in response. And indeed, her songs were no less eloquent than Majnun's, for as true as Majnun's was her love. She wrote her songs on scraps of paper and strew them on the sand; the wind carried them into the villages. Thus did people come upon them, as one stumbles on a precious jewel, and sing them. Soon the songs reached Majnun's ears, and he would sing a reply. As their words were carried back and forth across the desert, so did Layla and Majnun promise one another their undying love.

Now there was a palm grove a short distance from Layla's tent, and Layla would go there with her companions every day. One afternoon, while her friends played among the trees and danced on the green grass which spread around them like an emerald carpet, Layla sat apart, thinking of Majnun and weeping with longing. Suddenly she heard a voice singing loudly outside the garden walls. "How can it be," the voice rang out, "that Layla can dance joyfully in her garden while her beloved wanders in the wilderness alone?"

When Layla heard this reproach, she wept so bitterly and so mournfully spoke Majnun's name that none who saw her, not even the most obdurate stone, could remain unmoved. Indeed, one of her companions happened to hear the song and came upon the weeping Layla; tears of pity filled her eyes. She went to Layla's mother and told what she had heard and seen. Thus did the good woman learn of her daughter's suffering, for Layla never spoke to her about it.

That very day, as it happened, a young man of the tribe of Assad was journeying across the desert and passed by the grove. This Ibn Salam, for such was the young man's name, happened to catch a glimpse of Layla through a chink in the garden wall and immediately fell in love with her. Now Ibn Salam was of a rich and noble family, and he went at once before the chieftain to ask for Layla's hand. The chieftain was well pleased and readily agreed but asked only that the youth curb his eagerness. "Be patient for a while, my friend," he said. "In but a few months more, the bud will blossom into a full-blown rose; then shall the wedding feast be set."

Meanwhile, Majnun still wandered in the desert, dressed in his rags, singing songs, and crying, "Layla! Layla!" He took shelter among some rocks in a gorge where wild animals lived. And one day, a Bedouin prince named Nowfal came upon the valley and the unhappy Majnun. When he asked his attendants who the mournful creature was, they told of Majnun's suffering. The prince was deeply moved; for a while, he was brave in battle and gentle and kind of heart. Thus he caused a banquet to be set before Majnun. But Majnun would eat no food or drink no wine and uttered no word but "Layla!" Then the good prince took his hand and gently said, "My friend, listen to me, for I have heard your story, and I wish only to help you. Trust me, and you shall find Layla and shall have her for your own, to love all of your life. Indeed, you shall have Layla, even if I must do battle!"

At these kind words, Majnun arose and embraced Nowfal and went with him to his camp. Under the prince's gracious influence, Majnun became the cheerful youth he had once been. He wore fine robes and a silk turban. Every morning, as the sky brightened with the first rays of the sun, he rode into the wilderness with Nowfal, and they would ride all day. Every evening, when darkness fell, he feasted with the prince, called for wine, and listened to the songs of min­strels. Happy were these days when Majnun's sorrow was allayed. When he looked upon his friend, none was more joyful than Nowfal.

Thus did several months pass until, one afternoon, the two friends sat together in the shade of a tree, resting from their ride. Majnun sighed bitterly and said, "Good prince, my patience has come to its end. I beg of you, help me find Layla as you promised, for if I must wait even a moment longer, surely I shall die." So mournful did he look that Nowfal leaped to his feet at once, took up his sword, and summoned his men to arms. The next day, at dawn, he rode across the desert with Majnun at his side. When they reached the pasturelands of Layla's tribe and saw the tents on the horizon, they pitched camp. Then Nowfal sent a messenger to Layla's father. "Tell the chieftain that you come to him in Majnun's name and that Majnun must have Layla. Tell him, too, that if he should refuse, in Majnun's name will I attack!"

When the chieftain heard this threat, he was enraged. "Rather than give my daughter to this madman, I will fight like a lion and even die!"

Then Nowfal sent an even more serious threat to the chieftain, and with many curses, the chieftain refused. So Nowfal set upon Layla's people, and the desert resounded with the clash of war. In the midst of the fighting, Majnun huddled and wept and prayed for peace. He could not fight, for every injury to Layla's tribesmen was as a wound to him. Indeed, he would have drawn his bow and arrow against his own army had not to shame stayed his hand.

At last, as the sun descended in all its crimson glory, a truce was called, and both armies retreated to their camps. Nowfal again sent a messenger to the chieftain, offering many jewels and precious gifts in return for Layla, the most precious treasure of all. The chieftain scornfully refused. His army greatly outnumbered Nowfal's, for he had summoned many tribesmen from surrounding pastures and hunting grounds. But the next morning, Nowfal left his camp and went to amass an even greater force, enlisting tribesmen from Medina all the way to Baghdad, and the fighting began anew. At dawn one day, Nowfal attacked; by dusk, the chieftain was defeated and knelt at Nowfal's feet. "I am a weak old man," he said. "I have no strength; my men are all dispersed. Do what you will with me, but there is only one thing I ask. Give Layla not to Majnun, for he is a fool and has disgraced his name and hers !"

Now Nowfal, as we have said, was gentle of heart, and when the chieftain spoke, tears of compassion rose to the prince's eyes. Had not Nowfal gone to battle for the sake of Majnun? And had not Majnun kissed the bodies of Layla's kinsmen as they fell dead? Was Majnun not a traitor as well as a madman? Thus, with a heavy sigh, Nowfal agreed to the chieftain's request and bid him farewell. Then he gave the order to break camp. Whereupon Majnun turned to the prince and spoke many bitter words; he then took his few possessions and rode off into the desert. Trembling with rage and weeping with despair, he cried out, "Layla! Layla!" And his cries echoed across the dunes. Greatly alarmed, Nowfal went in search of Majnun the next morning, but he was nowhere to be found, and Nowfal saw him not that day, or the day after, or ever again.

For many days Majnun rode deep into the desert; he saw not a living soul, only stones and thorn bushes and miles of sand. Suddenly he came upon two gazelles caught in a trap. A hunter was standing over them with his dagger raised. When Majnun looked into the gentle eyes of the gazelles, he remembered Layla's soft black eyes, and he cried, "I beg of you, good hunter, do not kill!"

"Indeed, I am a poor man with a wife and family to feed," the hunter said. "For two months have I waited for this catch. What will you give me in exchange for the gazelles?"

Whereupon Majnun dismounted from his horse and placed the reins in the hunter's hands. The hunter rode off. Majnun freed the gazelles, and they ran gracefully away. Now Majnun walked in the desert. Thorns tore at his robes and scratched his feet, but he noticed not as he stumbled through the hot sand calling out Layla's name.

The next day Majnun came upon a stag caught in a net and wounded in the neck. Standing over the stag was a hunter with his knife drawn. "I beg of you, good hunter, release this stag at once!" cried Majnun. "Do you not think of the pain of those whose suffering you cause?"

"I do not wish to kill the stag," the hunter said, "but how will I survive? What will you give me if I let the stag go free?" Then, Majnun gave the hunter all that remained of his possessions, and the hunter went off. Then Majnun freed the stag and watched it make its way across the sand. Majnun continued walking in the desert, calling out Layla's name.

On the third day, the sun glared down so fiercely that the sand seemed to shimmer, and Majnun sat in the shade of a date-palm tree. Now on a branch of the tree sat a crow, and Majnun spoke to the bird. "Why are you dressed in black? Do you share my sorrow that your feathers are as black as Layla's hair? If you do mourn, like me, why don't you leave me." The crow did not answer, but hopped onto another branch, then flew away into the stifling air. And so Majnun sat alone all day until the sun set and the sky turned red, then blue, till it became blacker even than the feathers of the crow.

Then Majnun slept, and at dawn, when he awoke, he saw an old woman dragging by a rope an old man whose legs and arms were bound with chains. When the old woman came near, Majnun asked her who she was and why the old man was in chains. She replied that she was a widow and he was a dervish and that they traveled through the desert in this way and begged for food and shared what scraps were thrown to them. Then Majnun fell to his knees. "It is I who should be in chains, not he!" he cried. "Free this man, and put this rope around my neck instead, and you shall have all of our food!"

The woman agreed, and she led Majnun through the wilderness. Whenever they came to a village or even a shepherd's hut, Majnun would sing his songs and dance and hit his head upon the ground and cry out "Layla! Layla!" and they would be given scraps of food. Thus they wandered through the desert until, one day, they happened upon a camp. Majnun saw Layla's tent. He hit his head against a rock; tears streamed from his eyes, and he cried, "Layla! Layla! I have caused your people to suffer at the hands of Nowfal. As punishment, I am in chains. Behold me and my grief!" And, with a howl, he tore his chains apart and flung them from him. Then he cast away the rope and fled into the mountains.

Now it happened that after Nowfal's victory, the chieftain had told Layla of Nowfal's agreement. Layla had listened in silence and then had gone to her tent and wept, for never, not even for a moment, had her love for Majnun faltered. Soon after, Ibn Salam returned to claim Layla as his bride. He brought many caravans laden with gifts and showered silks and gold upon the chieftain. Carpets were spread, and a wedding feast was set. For seven days and seven nights, and for seven days more, there was a grand celebration: fires were lit; the incense of aloe was burned; silver coins were thrown into the air. Then, the next morning, when barely had the stars yielded to the rising sun, Ibn Salam departed with his bride. When the caravan reached the lands of the tribe of Assad, the joyful bridegroom said to Layla, "Everything you see is yours, my love!"

But that night, when he went to embrace her, Layla withdrew. When he still would take her in his arms, she struck him. "Come not within arm's length of me," she said, "for I have vowed never to give myself to you. Take your sword and kill me if you will, but I will not submit, not even in a hundred years!" So great was Ibn Salam's love for Layla that he fell to his knees and asked her forgiveness, gently saying, "Rather would I be allowed to look upon your face than lose you forever." And thus did they live, and so a year passed.

During that year, Majnun wandered in the wilderness. One day, while he was lying in the sand exhausted, a stranger, a black-skinned man, passed by. Now he knew well who Majnun was and said to him, "Have you not heard? Layla is married! Her husband is rich and noble, and even at this very moment does he hold her in his arms! Better to turn your back on Layla than to scorn the world, my friend!"

At these words, Majnun moaned with despair and fainted. When he, at last, opened his eyes, the stranger was overcome with pity. "My friend, forgive me, for I have been wicked and have spoken falsely. Layla is married, yet she loves you still and shares not her husband's bed. She is chaste and longs for you with all her heart and soul!"

Then the stranger departed, and Majnun stumbled through the desert, weeping and shaking to the depths of his being. In one breath, he called out Layla's name and sang his songs; in the next, he reproached her for betraying him; then, he wept and cried out his forgiveness.

Now in all this time, the good sayyid grew weak with age. He grieved greatly for his son and resolved to go once more into the desert to find him. Taking a walking stick, he set out with two companions. After journeying for many days, he came upon a desolate cave where he found Majnun, wasted and drawn. When Majnun heard his father's voice, he wept. Then the sayyid said, "I beg of you, my son, come home, for I am close to death. When I die, I wish to have you at my side."          

To be continued...