One Thousand and One Nights, page 280
Take leave of thy love, for the caravan, indeed, is on the
start. O man, canst thou bear to say farewell and thus
from her to part?
’Tis as her going were, I trow, but to her neighbour’s house,
The faultless gait of a fat fair maid, that never tires
the heart.
Sawst thou ever one stop at a butcher’s stall, but sought fat meat of him? The wise say, ‘Pleasure is in three things, eating flesh and riding on flesh and the thrusting of flesh into flesh.’ As for thee, O thin one, thy legs are like sparrow’s legs or pokers, and thou art like a cruciform plank or a piece of poor meat; there is nought in thee to gladden the heart; even as saith of thee the poet:
Now God forfend that aught enforce me take for bedfellow A
woman like a foot-rasp, wrapt in palm-fibres and tow!
In every limb she has a horn, that butts me in my sleep, So
that at day-break, bruised and sore, I rise from her and
go.”
“It is enough,” quoth her master. “Sit down.” So she sat down and he signed to the slender girl, who rose, as she were a willow-wand or a bamboo-shoot or a plant of sweet basil, and said, “Praised be God who created me and beautified me and made my embraces the end of all desire and likened me to the branch, to which all hearts incline. If I rise, I rise lightly; if I sit, I sit with grace; I am nimble-witted at a jest and sweeter-souled than cheerfulness [itself]. Never heard I one describe his mistress, saying, ‘My beloved is the bigness of an elephant or like a long wide mountain;’ but rather, ‘My lady hath a slender waist and a slim shape.’
A little food contents me and a little water stays my thirst; my sport is nimble and my habit elegant; for I am sprightlier than the sparrow and lighter-footed than the starling. My favours are the desire of the longing and the delight of the seeker; for I am goodly of shape, sweet of smile and graceful as the willow-wand or the bamboo-cane of the basil-plant; nor is there any can compare with me in grace, even as saith one of me:
Thy shape unto the sapling liken I And set my hope to win thee or
to die.
Distraught, I follow thee, and sore afraid, Lest any look on thee
with evil eye.
It is for the like of me that lovers run mad and that the longing are distracted. If my lover be minded to draw me to him, I am drawn to him, and if he would have me incline to him, I incline to him and not against him. But as for thee, O fat of body, thine eating is as that of an elephant, and neither much not little contents thee. When thou liest with a man, he hath no ease of thee, nor can he find a way to take his pleasure of thee; for the bigness of thy belly holds him off from clipping thee and the grossness of thy thighs hinders him from coming at thy kaze. What comeliness is there in thy grossness and what pleasantness or courtesy in thy coarse nature? Fat meat is fit for nought but slaughter, nor is there aught therein that calls for praise. If one joke with thee, thou art angry; if one sport with thee, thou art sulky; if thou sleep, thou snorest; if thou walk, thou pantest; if thou eat, thou art never satisfied. Thou art heavier than mountains and fouler than corruption and sin. Thou hast in thee nor movement nor blessing nor thinkest of aught but to eat and sleep. If thou make water, thou scatterest; if thou void, thou gruntest like a bursten wine-skin or a surly elephant. If thou go to the draught-house, thou needest one to wash out thy privy parts and pluck out the hairs; and this is the extreme of laziness and the sign of stupidity. In fine, there is no good thing in thee, and indeed the poet saith of thee:
Heavy and swollen with fat, like a blown-out water-skin, With
thighs like the pillars of stone that buttress a mountain’s
head,
Lo, if she walk in the West, so cumbrous her corpulence is The
Eastern hemisphere hears the sound of her heavy tread.”
Quoth her master, “It is enough: sit down.” So she sat down and he signed to the yellow girl, who rose to her feet and praised God and magnified His name, calling down peace and blessing on the best of His creatures; after which she pointed at the brunette and said to her, “I am praised in the Koran, and the Compassionate One hath described my colour and its excellence over all others in His manifest Book, where He saith, ‘A yellow [heifer], pure yellow, whose colour rejoices the beholders.’ Wherefore my colour is a portent and my grace an extreme and my beauty a term; for that my colour is the colour of a dinar and of the planets and moons and of apples. My fashion is the fashion of the fair, and the colour of saffron outvies all other colours; so my fashion is rare and my colour wonderful. I am soft of body, and of great price, comprising all attributes of beauty. My colour, in that which exists, is precious as virgin gold, and how many glorious qualities are there not in me! Of the like of me quoth the poet:
Yellow she is, as is the sun that shineth in the sky, And like to
golden dinars, eke, to see, her beauties are.
Nor with her brightness, anywise, can saffron hold compare, And
even the very moon herself her charms outvie by far.
And now I will begin in thy dispraise, O brown of favour! Thy colour is that of the buffalo, and all souls shudder at thy sight. If thy colour be in aught, it is blamed; if it be in food, it is poisoned; for thy colour is that of flies and is a mark of ugliness in dogs. It is, among colours, one which strikes with amazement and is of the signs of mourning. Never heard I of brown gold or brown pearls or brown jewels. If thou enter the wardrobe, thy colour changes, and when thou comest out, thou addest a new ugliness to thine ugliness. Thou art neither black, that thou mayst be known, nor white, that thou mayst be described; and there is no good quality in thee, even as saith of thee the poet:
As a complexion unto her, the hue of soot doth serve; Her mirky
colour is as dust on couriers’ feet upcast.
No sooner fall mine eyes on her, thou but a moment’s space, Than
troubles and misgivings straight beset me thick and fast.”
“Enough,” said her master. “Sit down.” So she sat down and he signed to the brunette. Now she was endowed with grace and beauty and symmetry and perfection, delicate of body, with coal-back hair, slender shape, rosy, oval cheeks, liquid black eyes, fair face, eloquent tongue, slim waist and heavy buttocks. So she rose and said, “Praised be God who hath created me neither blameably fat nor lankily slender, neither white like leprosy nor yellow like colic nor black like coal, but hath made my colour to be beloved of men of wit; for all the poets praise brunettes in every tongue and exalt their colour over all others. Brown of hue, praiseworthy of qualities; and God bless him who saith:
In the brunettes a meaning is, couldst read its writ aright,
Thine eyes would never again look on others, red or white.
Free-flowing speech and amorous looks would teach Harout
himself The arts of sorcery and spells of magic and of
might.
And saith another:
Give me brunettes; the Syrian spears, so limber and so
straight, Tell of the slender dusky maids, so lithe and
proud of gait.
Languid of eyelids, with a down like silk upon her cheek,
Within her wasting lover’s heart she queens it still in
state.
And yet another:
Yea, by my life, such virtues in goodly brownness lie, One spot
thereof makes whiteness the shining moons outvie;
But if the like of whiteness is borrowed, then, for sure, Its
beauty were transmuted unto reproach thereby.
Not with her wine I’m drunken, but with her
tresses bright That make all creatures drunken that
dwell beneath the sky.
Each of her charms doth envy the others; yea, and each To be
the down so silky upon her cheek doth sigh.
And again:
Why should I not incline me unto the silken down On the cheeks
of a dusky maiden, like the cane straight and brown,
Seeing the spot of beauty in waterlilies’ cups Is of the poets
fabled to be all beauty’s crown?
Yea, and I see all lovers the swarthy-coloured mole, Under the
ebon pupil, do honour and renown.
Why, then, do censors blame me for loving one who’s all A mole?
May Allah rid me of every railing clown!
My form is beautiful and my shape slender; kings desire my colour and all love it, rich and poor. I am pleasant, nimble, handsome, elegant, soft of body and great of price. I am perfect in beauty and breeding and eloquence; my aspect is comely and my tongue fluent, my habit light and my sport graceful. As for thee, [O yellow girl,] thou art like unto a mallow of Bab el Louc, yellow and made all of sulphur. Perdition to thee, O pennyworth of sorrel, O rust of copper, O owl’s face and food of the damned! Thy bedfellow, for oppression of spirit, is buried in the tombs, and there is no good thing in thee, even as saith the poet of the like of thee:
Paleness is sore on her, for all no illness doth her
fret; My breast is straitened by its sight; ay, and my
head aches yet.
If thou repent thee not, my soul, to punish thee, I vow, I’ll
humble thee with a kiss of her face, my teeth on edge
shall set.”
“Enough,” said her master; “sit down.” Then he made peace between them and clad them all in sumptuous dresses of honour and handselled them with precious jewels of land and sea. And never, O Commander of the Faithful, in any place or time have I seen fairer than these six fair damsels.’
When the Khalif El Mamoun heard this story from Mohammed of Bassora, he said to him, ‘O Mohammed, knowest thou the abiding-place of these damsels and their master, and canst thou make shift to buy them of him for us?’ ‘O Commander of the Faithful,’ answered he, ‘I have heard that their master is wrapped up in them and cannot endure to be parted from them.’ ‘Take threescore thousand dinars, — that is, ten thousand for each girl,—’ rejoined the Khalif, ‘and go to his house and buy them of him.’ So Mohammed took the money and betaking himself to the man of Yemen, acquainted him with the Khalif’s wish. He consented to sell them at that price, to pleasure him, and despatched them to El Mamoun, who assigned them an elegant lodging and used to sit with them therein, marvelling at their beauty and grace, no less than at their varied colours and the excellence of their speech.
After awhile, when their former owner could no longer endure separation from them, he sent a letter to the Khalif, complaining of his ardent love for them and containing, amongst the rest, the following verses:
Six damsels fair and bright have captivated me; My blessing and
my peace the six fair maidens greet!
My life, indeed, are they, my hearing and my sight, Yea, and my
very drink, my pleasance and my meat.
No other love can bring me solace for their charms, And
slumber, after them, no more to me is sweet.
Alas, my long regret, my weeping for their loss! Would I have
ne’er been born, to know this sore defeat!
For eyes, bedecked and fair with brows like bended bows, Have
smitten me to death with arrows keen and fleet.
When the letter came to El Mamoun’s hands, he clad the six damsels in rich apparel and giving them threescore thousand dinars, sent them back to their master, who rejoiced in them with an exceeding joy, — more by token of the money they brought him, — and abode with them in all delight and pleasance of life, till there came to them the Destroyer of Delights and the Sunderer of Companies.
John Payne’s translation: detailed table of contents
HAROUN ER RASHID AND THE DAMSEL AND ABOU NUWAS.
The Khalif Haroun er Reshid, being one night exceeding restless and oppressed with melancholy thought, went out and walked about his palace, till he came to a chamber, over whose doorway hung a curtain. He raised the curtain and saw, at the upper end of the room, a bed, on which lay something black, as it were a man asleep, with a candle on his right hand and another on his left and by his side a flagon of old wine, over against which stood the cup. The Khalif wondered at this, saying, ‘How came yonder black by this wine-service?’ Then, drawing near the bed, he found that it was a girl asleep there, veiled with her hair, and uncovering her face, saw that it was like the moon on the night of her full. So he filled a cup of wine and drank it to the roses of her cheeks; then bent over her and kissed a mole on her face, whereupon she awoke and cried out, saying, ‘O Trusty One of God,, what is to do?’ ‘A guest who knocks at thy dwelling by night,’ replied the Khalif, ‘[hoping] that thou wilt give him hospitality till the dawn.’ ‘It is well,’ answered she; ‘I will grace the guest with my hearing and my sight.’
So she brought the wine and they drank it together; after which she took the lute and tuning it, preluded in one-and-twenty modes, then returning to the first, struck a lively measure and sang the following verses:
The tongue of passion in my heart bespeaks thee for my soul,
Telling I love thee with a love that nothing can control.
I have an eye, that testifies unto my sore disease, And eke a
heart with parting wrung, a-throb for love and dole.
Indeed, I cannot hide the love that frets my life away; Longing
increases still on me, my tears for ever roll.
Ah me, before the love of thee, I knew not what love was; But
God’s decree must have its course on every living soul.
Then said she, ‘O Commander of the Faithful, I am a wronged woman.’ ‘How so?’ quoth he, ‘and who hath wronged thee?’ She answered, ‘Thy son bought me awhile ago, for ten thousand dirhems, meaning to give me to thee; but the daughter of thine uncle sent him the price aforesaid and bade him shut me up from thee in this chamber.’ Whereupon, ‘Ask a boon of me,’ said the Khalif; and she, ‘I ask thee to lie to-morrow night with me.’ ‘If it be the will of God,’ replied the Khalif, and leaving her, went away.
Next morning, he repaired to his sitting-room and called for Abou Nuwas, but found him not and sent his chamberlain to seek for him. The chamberlain found him in pawn, in a tavern, for a score of a thousand dirhems, that he had spent on a certain boy, and questioned him. So he told him what had befallen him with the boy and how he had spent a thousand dirhems upon him; whereupon quoth the chamberlain, ‘Show him to me; and if he be worth this, thou art excused.’ ‘Wait awhile,’ replied the poet, ‘and thou shalt see him presently.’ As they were talking, up came the boy, clad in a white tunic, under which was another of red and yet another of black. When Abou Nuwas saw him, he sighed and repeated the following verses:
To me he appeared in a garment of white, His eyes and his
eyelids with languor bedight.
Quoth I, “Dost thou pass and salutest me not? Though God knows
thy greeting were sweet to my spright.
Be He blessed who mantled with roses thy cheeks, Who creates,
without let, what He will, of His might!”
“Leave prating,” he answered; “for surely my Lord Is wondrous
of working, sans flaw or dissight.
Yea, truly, my garment is even as my face And my fortune, each
white upon white upon white.”
When the boy heard this, he put off the white tunic and appeared in the red one; whereupon Abou Nuwas redoubled in expressions of admiration and repeated the following verses:
Appeared in a garment, the colour of flame, A foeman of mine,
“The beloved,” by name.
“Thou’rt a full moon,” I said in my wonder, “And com’st In a
garment that putteth the roses to shame.
Hath the red of thy cheek clad that vest upon thee Or in
heart’s blood of lovers hast tinctured the same?”
Quoth he, “’Twas the sun lately gave me the wede; From the
rubicund hue of his setting it came.
So my garment and wine and the colour so clear Of my cheek are
as flame upon flame upon flame.”
Then the boy doffed the red tunic and abode in the black; whereupon Abou Nuwas redoubled in attention to him and repeated the following verses:
He came in a tunic all sable of hue And shone out, thus veiled
in the dark, to men’s view.
“Thou passest,” quoth I, “without greeting, and thus Givest
cause to exult to the rancorous crew.
Thy garment resembles thy locks and my lot, Yea, blackness and
blackness and blackness thereto.”
Then the chamberlain returned to Haroun er Reshid and acquainted him with the poet’s predicament, whereupon he bade him take a thousand dirhems and go and take him out of pawn. So he returned to Abou Nuwas and paying his score, carried him to the Khalif, who said, ‘Make me some verses containing the words, “O Trusty One of God, what is to do?”’ ‘I hear and obey, O Commander of the Faithful,’ answered he and improvised the following verses:
My night was long for sleeplessness and care. Weary I was and
many my thoughts were.
I rose and walked awhile in my own place, Then midst the
harem’s cloistered courts did fare,
Until I chanced on somewhat black and found It was a damsel
shrouded in her hair.
God bless her for a shining moon! Her shape A willow-wand, and
pudour veiled the fair.
I quaffed a cup to her; then, drawing near, I kissed the mole
upon her cheek so rare.
She woke and swayed about in her amaze, Even as the branch
sways in the rain-fraught air;
Then rose and said, “O Trusty One of God, What is to do, and
thou, what dost thou there?”
“A guest”, quoth I, “that sues to thee, by night, For shelter
till the hour of morning-prayer.”
“Gladly,” she said; “with hearing and with sight To grace the
guest, my lord, I will not spare.”
‘Confound thee!’ cried the Khalif. ‘It is as if thou hadst been present with us.’ Then he took him by the hand and carried him to the damsel, who was clad in a dress and veil of blue. When Abou Nuwas saw her, he was profuse in expressions of admiration and recited the following verses:
