Muhammed Fuzuli (1498-1556)

LEYLA and MEJNUN

Translated by Sofi Nuri

XIII
Herein is set forth the Poem sent by Mejnun to his Father.

When I saw the vast meadows of love. I abandoned all soundness of
mind
That is sent by the gods up above, of all their sweet gifts most unkind.
Seek not now to look on my face. alone let me stay with disgrace,
Blame not, o advisor of youth, good excuse can be found for my place.
Seek not to prevent if my collar is rent, No garment of shame my dress:
The desert's hot sand I now understand
Is the home where I hide my distress.
No slave of the dark from now on, for, hark!
A seeker am I after light,
To sickness of mind should my thoughts be inclin'd
The choice never mine for my plight.

Affliction in love, and the care of my love, I ne'er will surrender: my
needs
Encompass not Paradise, ascetic soul, or huris that dance o'er the
meads.
Observe my delight in her ringleted curls, the curve of her brow gives
me pleasure,
With China's great Emperor, Fagfur, vie, or Chosroes,*3 rejoicing
at leisure.
The aim of all life is to make a great name: mine shall last till the
mountains dissolve:
Fuzuli! Rejoice? I am famous, but mad! To be mad, drunk with love
my resolve.

XX
Herein is related how Mejnun's Father sought Leyla in Marriage for his Son,
and how the Father of Leyla would have none of it
while Mejnun remained uncured of his Madness.

Now Saki, bring the clear and limpid wine.
For now has come the requisite degree
Of passion fierce and Love's dear rapture fine:
Bring now the wine and set the victim free.
For thus the Poet, culling gems of words
From out the market of Mejnun's mad mind
Had shown his father that of all his herds
And wealth and riches, never would he find
That comfort that would soothe his scattered wits
Till Leyla sat beside him. Thus the Chief
To Mejnun's madness bound himself, as fits
The father of a son sunk deep in grief.

To win for Mejnun Leyla's precious hand
His heart firm set and hope about him wrapped,
He journeyed to the Kaaba of Desire
And Leyla's father, not to be entrapped
In show of less civility, nor tire
His guest with hasty comfort, gathered too,
The greatest of his land, and journeyed forth
To greet the coming party. Well he knew
That honour must be met with honour's worth.
With welcome many times repeated o'er,
With hopes that happy auspices attend
Their visit, and that blessings pour
Upon them, they attained their journey's end.
A cypress tree in stature, tall and grand
He stood before them. They erect and straight
As candles sat, while near at hand
Refreshment waiteth-many a cunning plate
Of roasted meat, the lamb and tender kid-
It seemed that Aries and Capricorn
Had left their places in the sky to bid
A welcome to the guests so travel worn.
(How strange it is to say these furnished trays
Were like the sky's plann'd zodiac on high;
As if the trav'llers thought, all in a maze,
That these conceits should fall from out the sky!)
Then, courtesy observed, the ancient Chief
Restored in body, still distressed in mind,
Set fort his errand, told of all the grief
His son endureth with soul to Love entwin'd.
'O, thou, thyself the Father of a Host
Of Tribes, the Fount, the Spring, the Corner-post-
My race and lineage thou knowest well,
Effective is my power with all who dwell
Within a thousand homes: my fame is spread
Many a thousand tribes. By all 'tis said
That much and freely to them all I give.
Within my friendship many peoples live.
My enmity is fierce: I spread it not;
No man am I of ruthless anger hot.
The leading name mine of all the days
Whereof men write-all join to sing my praise,
Know also that, beside my lineage old
Possessions have I, more a hundred fold
Than I can count. But still the brightest gem
That God has granted for my diadem
Is he for whom I seek a valued pearl
To balance with a ruby: boy and girl.
In many mines that richest treasure yield
I've dug, exploring; roamed a vasty field.
In every mine a precious stone is hid,
But not the ruby that my mind may rid
Of need for seeking. But a breath I hear
That thou, within thy tent, a ruby clear
Hast strictly kept, that well may match my pearl.
And thus I ask thee. in the dizzy whirl
Of all that comes and goes, by gracious now,
Respecting pearl and ruby, thinking how
The one to other joined, may, each to each,
Protection give, as cypress boughs o'er-reach
The blowing rose, and give it needed shade.
So should a youth protect a lovely maid.
Be not unmindful, comprehend my word,
A good affair is this, be not deterred,
And ask of me whate'er thou wilt in change.
O'er all thy great desires thy mind may range
Should treasure be thine aim, thy ruby's worth
Shall draw such treasures as may hide the earth;
If jewels bright thy goal, then jewels I'll send
To fill thy treasure chests without an end.'

To this address the father answered slow
As well befitted parent of the gem
That had no peer, the jasmine breasted dove,
The hidden treasure, guarded with the care
That comes when dragons guard the secret door:

'O, wise and gentle friend, who, like myself,
Art captive to a child loved more than pelf,
Full welcome art thou, bringing pleasure deep
To him who speaks, and yet in dust must creep.
'Tis hard to answer, yet response is due
To what thou sayest: let my words be few.
Much honour is enshrined in thy speech;
'Twixt thee and me were honour each to each.
Yet hear me now and take not deep offence
They say that Mejnun is bereft of sense:
The people ill bespeak him, call him mad.
No marriage this to make my daughter glad.
'Tis not for me to sing my daughter's praise,
But 'tis my child, and will be all her days.
A daughter is the pupil of the eye,
Full helpless, hurt by aH the motes that fly.
This cannot be: 'twere more than all unkind
A maddened giant and fairy child to bind
In marriage. Talk not thus my worthy friend.
Be silent on this matter. Let it end.
Tis ruin needs thy madman, why expend
On madmen all thy treasure? Seek a cure
For this thy son, then shall my word endure,
That Mejnun, healed of all his mad disease
Shall wed with Leyla for his sick heart's ease.'

XXIX
Herein is set forth Leyla's Conversation with the Candle and the Manner
of her Asking for the Remedy for the Pain in her Heart.

O, thou, with eyes securely tied, whose heart is branded sore,
Who, ages passed, as now, the crown of blackened mourning wore,
Whose foot is constant in one place: come, let us, thou and I
Be one in soul, make manifest the reason thou dost cry.
What trouble makes thee slender, then; and so distress'd and pale,
Say why this burning head to foot, the garb of sorrow's wail?
Say why the blackness of thy heart escapes as sooty smoke
Sad sufferer of calamity, whose tears thy passion choke?
Of what sort is thy origin, that this hot, burning flame
Is water sweet that gives thee life, explain this eye of shame
That weeps about thy burning heart, reveal the secret clue
That followed will unveil thy heart, and all thy secret rue.
O, early riser, tell me now, what is thy magic sweet
That gives to water potency to swell thy passion's heat?
Tho' vexed I be, and sadly torn, yet leave me not alone,
Neglect me not for in my heart, I, too, a sorrow own.
I, too. like thee, in loyalty, am sorrow's slave, but stay,
Thy sorrow troubles thee at night; mine burns both night and day.
The lightest wind disturbs thy poise and bends thee to its will,
A grievous pain, but how much less than all my monstrous ill?
Thy habit 'tis to drip thy tears for all the world to see,
To tell the sorrow of thy heart with naught of secrecy
Where e'er the crowds are thronging, and from thy saddened breast
Thy tongue gives out the loyalty that in thy breast should rest.
But I am firmly anchored in the land of sorrow deep,
And like the flute a treasure that the air may safely keep.
No comrade mine, no chance found friend: I would not willing be
To tell my secret though my head should fall upon my knee.
I thought to tell my anguish deep to thee, O fickle flame,
But now no firmness stays in thee! Why, then, invoke thy name?
No satisfaction could I bring! Bethink thee how a .sigh
That breathes the secret from my heart would make thee melt and die!
To one alone have I disclosed what in my heart abides
And that friend. Love, now left behind, that now no longer rides
Along the lonely road with me, but treads the mountain high
And ranges o'er the stony ways, all scorched beneath the sky.
I will not this discuss with thee, O, Candle, lest thou flee
Far, far away and disappear, for clearly do I see
Thou hast no tongue for language dear, sweet comfort to accord,
Nor yet a soul, whose holy words could solace sweet afford.

XLVI
Herein is set forth the Song composed by Leyla in which she set forth the Troubles of her Heart.

Love must had compassion on our weeping and our grieving
That he set his foot today in the cottage of our sorrow,
That this reward our falling tears are blessed in achieving
This shoot that springs upon the rose today and not tomorrow.

Full well we know, for as the fire of passion'd sighing born
Becomes the smoky flame, the torch of Separation's Night.
If only we could claim that here a nightmare dream were born,
If but the weeping eye could sleep, not weep till day is bright!

This we behold must be a ghost, or else an Idol plain,
Unthinkable that Love should come so nigh without a fear.
Come, Heart and Soul! 'Tis true, and Love our guest will now remain,
Expend our treasures, riches all, the joyous day to mark.

The aim of Beauty and its purpose is to kill us, to destroy! Fuzuli!
Come and help us to surrender dear of life,
Giving Life to sacred Beauty, turning Soul into a toy
That satisfied with toying, playing, lives for ever without strife.

XLVII
Herein is set forth the Manner in which Mejnun met Leyla, and new he took Advantage of his Opportunity to make manifest his hidden Secret.

The eye of Mejnun, fallen on his Queen
At once the secret of his heart laid bare.
All sighing did he mourn his bitter lot
And prayed, as suitor, justice from his Queen.

XLVI
Herein is set forth the Song composed by Leyla in which she set forth the
Troubles of her Heart.

The aim of Beauty and its purpose is to kill us, to destroy!
Fuzuli! Come and help us to surrender dear of life,
Giving Life to sacred Beauty, turning Soul into a toy
That satisfied with toying, playing, lives for ever without strife.

XLVII
Herein is set forth the Manner in which Mejnun met Leyla, and new he
took Advantage of his Opportunity to make manifest his hidden Secret.

The eye of Mejnun, fallen on his Queen
At once the secret of his heart laid bare.
All sighing did he mourn his bitter lot
And prayed, as suitor, justice from his Queen.

'O greatly prized and highly valued maid,
Uncover where my guilt lies all concealed.
In what remotest detail have I left
Thy finnan unfulfilled, what traffic base
Have I concocted with thine enemies?
This sad disfavour of wicked spite
Of my detractors, bearing idle tales
All false and fraudulent. Believer true
Am I, and now upon thy threshold dear
I stand demanding who the instrument
And schemer of this malice and despite?
Far, far away, bemused, with broken heart
Far off I keep me from the very dust
That lies about thy porch; tormented still,
My only friend my sorrows: loneliness
The sole companion to my wretched life,
With never friend nor lover in the wild.
And even thou, my only heart's desire,
Thou grievest not me, nor wond'ring ask:
"Where, now, in lonely sorrow dwells my love?"
'Tis strange to find thee thus unmindful still.
Full sure thy anger is betokcned here.'

It well may be that, innocent of guilt,
I yet remain a sinner: other cause
Or reason for this heavy misery
I cannot find, and yet, upon the ground
The chain about my neck, I bend my head,
Bismillah chanting, 'In the Name of God!'
And if excuse be none, acceptance find
And swift obedience to thy decree.
But be not vexed, my angel, nor despise
What here I bring. Stab thou with lashes sharp,
Or of the curled lock a dagger make:
Stab if thou wilt, or hang me till I die,
Do as thou wilt, but let annoyance fade
From off thy lovely face, and gladden me
Nor leave me blushing in an angry shame.
Know, too, that if a reason should be sought
For all my blame, know that indifference
And thy unmindfulness brings speedy death.
O, thou, of tulip cheek and fragrant hair,
Thou treasure house of every beauty known
Or dreamed of, always am I tightly bound
By every curling lock that sweetly bangs
Upon thy lovely neck, and maddened thus,
I seek and cherish all my fetters dear,
And keep my foot for ever chained to grief.
Aloft, above all others do I soar
In madness of an all-consuming love,
And find that loss becomes my dearest gain.
Hear, now! My constant passion prompts a song!

LI
Herein is set forth the Desire of Ibni Salam for Leyli, and the Manner
in which the Dawn of his Hope proved to be but a False Dawn.

Now, Saki, give tranquillity of soul,
Be gracious, animate the lifeless core.
Give wine in plenty, pass the brimming cup
That all may taste of joy: let sorrow come
When joy and constancy are sped. Then ask
Why sad sweet sorrows follow hard on joy
This sorry business of this sickened world
No value holds; the wheel, unstable, turns
While Fortune offers now a treasure house
Of pain and suff 'ring piled mountain high
To one so bless'd, and then unfairly deals
A pack of troubles to his neighbour near.
See, now, O, Saki, how the sapling wild
First born of water, now to fire gives birth!
'Tis Destiny that orders every day
And if her blind ordaining chance to fit
The suitor's needs then happiness may come.

Short time elapsed ere Ibni Salam learned
The prize was unfulfilled for which he yearned.
He sent abroad his messengers to find
The greatest of his land in name and kind,
And wealth unbounded for the Nikah* sent
And all, nay, more than all he promised, spent.
Iran and Egypt, Hicaz, famed of old,
Sent forth a thousand horses shod in gold:
A thousand handsome youths and lovely lads
Embellished all in silk and fine brocades:
A thousand camel cows with rosy skin
And softest fur that all might revel in,
A thousand loads of candied sweetmeats bore,
While from the treasure came forth a store
Of ambergris, and musk a thousand trays
And sparkling jewels that blinded every gaze.
With unalloyed gold and abir sweet
The contract of the marriage to greet,
And thus each requisite was gladly sent
The dower fixed: each party was content.

Few moments passed ere Leyla heard the tale
And o'er her blooming Spring fell Autumn pale.
Her eyes were filled with dust of heavy grief,
The sapling of her wish shed every leaf.
A backward turn took all that she desired;
She felt her fortune by Misfortune hired;
That she, desirous of the blushing rose
Was given but a thorn: desiring those
Bright beams of Love's dear light, was burned with fire
That of the light was bom. Her keen desire
Turned all her wedding feast to mourning drear,
And mourning spread to wedding quarters near.
For, when the women came to dress her hair
And thus with bright adornment swell her share
Of beauty rare, the child her maid did shock,
And smudged the mole and ravelled up the lock.
From off her crescent eyebrow rasttk fled,
The surme from her eyes in tears was shed.
The comb forbidden now her hair to deck;
Her very gems lay heavy on her neck.
The mirror wept, confronted with her sigh;
No inky line would crescent eyebrow try.
The henna found no hand to kiss her foot,
Her walking made the dismal, drumming ut
Vibrate in accents low, while flushing face
Burned off the milky lotion from its place.
The sweetest perfume seemed a vulgar smell,
She feared no thorn from out of slander's well.
She, like the rose tree, tore her clothes apart,
And sighed and moaned with sadly breaking heart.

'O, Fortune, now observe my sad estate,
Was this the boon I asked of thee but late?
My faith was placed on thy revolving wheel,
I hoped that thou would'st all my sorrows heal.
Make no mistake, the love for which I prayed
Is not the love for which I am arrayed.
Think'st thou 'twas this I asked with anxious care?
That this I prayed for with a heart laid bare?
The one I love on Loyalty's page is graved,
While here are pages of extinction craved.
The one I love is drowned beneath the sea
Of all the soul's sad pleasure, while to me
Thou bring'st the acme of a leisured ease
And thinkest thus my aching heart to please.
The one I love owns but a single claim
To life: that I may wear his name.
While he thou bringest has but one desire-
That I should feed his passion's hungry fire.
The one I love stands forth a signpost clear
The one thou bringest starts the road of fear.
The one I love is mine: as he to me
In single fervour cleaves, so Fortune, see
How I cleave unto him. From Time's first day
This bond existed. Here me as I pray:
Keep this dear servitude from every harm
For haply it existed ere thy charm
Was born. So, Fortune, throw aside reproach,
Give up this mastery that would encroach
On human lives, seek God and gracious be,
And to the strong give not the property
Of being weak, nor give as lawful friend
A woman who loves elsewhere till her end.
Think not that Mejnun brave is lacking state,
Or that, now maddened, he were sorry mate
For any maid. Who treads disaster's road
As he, in loneliness, has courage showed.
For Ibni Salam, poor unhappy wight,
Knows little yet of cheating Fortune's spite:
From Leyla Mejnun takes an added fame-
For him contentment stays but in her name.
Yet should it be thou wishest joy of heart,
Know that I with deep affliction smart,
And am the fabled whale in legend told,
And thou the treasure chest of sorrows old.
Much more thy love than mine that rescues me
From parents grim and leaves me but with thee.
For I, offending, ask a pardon clear
For greater wrong and greater passion dear.
So, Fortune, save me now from Father near,
And Mother whom I now begin to fear,
And thus, with one sad grief, the record close,
Lest two calamities the record shows.'
Thus murmured Leyla, sighing as she wept,
And hating all who round about her crept
With bright adornment, moaning loud and long,
Till finally she burst forth into song.

LII
Herein is set forth the Song sung by Leyla on the
Occasion of her Marriage with Ibni Salam.

The wheel, O fickle Fortune, is spun in a way
That opposes my every desire;
I ask for the rose, but thy heartless display
Gives no rose but the thorn's burning fire.

Though years to my score I may count but a few,
Not once hast thou met my desire;
But turning and turning, revolving anew,
Thou still bringest unslaked fire.

No reason I know to humiliate so
A maiden whom many desire:
Time was when all loved me as well thou dost know
Till thy dust came to smother my fire.

My hope was to find ere I passed all my prime,
The soul of my heart's one desire;
But now do I find thou hast used all thy time
To build tortures to set me on fire.

Thy blasphemous hands have in sacrilege torn
The curtain that hid my desire;
The sorrows I hid in my breast all forlorn
Thou hast published and thus fed my fire.

No chance didst thou bring that alone I might live
Still true to my constant desire;
Thou hast brought me to shame as I true promise give
To Loyalty's ravening fire.

To thou, O Fuzull, thou wisest of men
The Future itself is revealed:
Thy treasures unprized, have merit but when
The Future is safely concealed.

LIII
Herein follows the Epilogue to Leyla's Song and the Conclusion of this
Section of the History of Leyla and Mejnun.

All those who looked saw great uneasiness
Upon the maiden's brow; they next observed
That all adornment, lustre, beauty's aid
Was quite neglected, put aside in pain,
And, thinking o'er the problem, found the cause,
And that a crueller, sadder grief she had.
The sun, they thought must surely make lament
When separated from a mother dear:
To leave a father desolate, alone,
Must trouble still the gently nurtured mind.

'How right thou art, O jasmine breasted maid,'
They spoke in approbation, 'thus to grieve
At breaking here the lifelong habit formed
Of close companionship with parents dear.
Thou see'st now, when separation comes,
The cruelty that absence always brings.
Let still thy sorrowing be unrestrained
Yet never think that but to thee alone
Comes this unbounded grief. This scorching heat
Of separation's fire has burned before.
Remember, too, the custom of thy folk,
Nor thus exaggerate a proper pain.
Within her father's house no girl may stay
Unnumbered years, nor on her mother spend
The total of her love, yet mindful be
And in thy passing to another sphere
Be not neglectful of thy parents dear.'

These words they spoke, and Leyla, hearing them,
Agreed their justice, but she spoke no word
Of other sorrow, for she saw no cause
Why idle tongues should slander her repute.
For ill befitting one of princely blood
To make avowal of a tender love,
And, thus avowing, shame her modesty.
And thus the Moon, assaulted by the spears
Of ignorant acclaim that tore her heart
Submitted, yet unwilling, to be dressed
For well she knew a thousand shouting tongues
Would rob her of volition. Thus adorned
With sweet embellishment and cunning art
Her face shone forth with such a beauty rare
That Fortune, looking on her handiwork
Cried mercy for a perfect patience found
In Mejnun's soul, for unadorned the moon
Was but a blight, but now the nimble zeal
Of busy fingers made her beauty shine
That through her veil her glory glittered bright.
And thus. when Night, with stealthy steps and slow
Drove off to darkness all the light of Day,
When all the stars their countless candles lit
And Night's grim darkness in its turn was shed,
Sweet, rose faced charmers gathered all round
Each charmer took a candle in her hand
And joyously in gay procession passed
Five hundred rosy cheeks and ruby lips.
A hundred moons with tiny rosebud Ups
The sweet rose water sprinkled on the road
A hundred maids, all rosy cheeked and fresh
Each swung the censor of sweet aloes, thus
With sweetest amber scenting all the way.
Another hundred beauties, singing sweet
With sweetly tuned instruments conjoined,
Enchanted all who heard. The wine cup passed
And repassed, offered by the tender bands
Of full a hundred maids whose smoky eyes
Languished and fell as still they served the wine.
Nearby, in charge of near a hundred youths,
All rosy cheeked, a hundred trays of gold
Lay waiting to be scattered all abroad
In joyous celebration.
Mid the pomp
Sat Leyla in a litter, all alone.
Her eye took in that splendour of the scene,
But saw it dully; apathetic still
She sighed in sorrow, moaned in bitter grief.
Perplexed she went, as straws go with the stream.
Unknowing and uncaring, without joy,
Yet moving still as in a dazed dream,
Till, last, the harem of the palace reach'd
And each companion, every friend, withdrew,
And left her in a private room alone.
And there the rose become a garden sweet
Where thorn and straw were banished out of sight.
When Ibni Salam that Fortune kind
To his fond care had brought the gracious Moon,
That seeker after jewel- fine and rare,
Desiring still the greatest gem of all,
With rapid steps made entry in the mine.
And thus, before his almost blinded eyes
He saw a light shine forth behind a veil.
All hidden was her face, but strong desire
Burned fiercely in him and his heart was stirred
By hope of speedy union, as his hand
He raised to lift the still protecting screen
That stayed between himself and his desire.

'O, thou,' said Leyla softly, 'Chief of Tribes,
And now, by chance, the master of my life,
Much talk has passed of all thy attributes,
Of thy intelligence and modesty,
Result of happy breeding. Hear my words,
And merit now the justice that the world
From end to end acclaims thy brightest star.

'Think not that I am rich, for I am poor.
Think not I am thy guest; I am thy slave.
Let not thy slave here suffer cruelty:
Show mercy to this suppliant. See now,
The manner of my suffering in soul
And weakened body, too; and ask my heart
The reason for its sorrowing, and hear
The reason that it gives:
'Long ages past,
In those dim, far off days when forth to school
I daily went to con my lessons o'er,
It chanced that in my sight a fairy stayed,
A youth of merit, full before my eyes;
And quick, this fairy offspring, djinnie born,
Established firm acquaintanceship with me.
And at my side each moment there he stood
Beseeching me to stay, ere yet I make
A spouse of any human being born
In all the world, and swearing, if I should,
His magic sword with but a single blow,
Would slay us both. My parents magic used,
And sought with every remedy to lift
This chain from off my neck, but naught availed.
My father and my mother vainly tried
To banish this sad evil, then, distressed,
Nor finding any remedy prevail,
My magic lave was learned of all the world.
And thus my friends, my sweet companions dear
Turned from me, hating with a sorrowed heart
This maid so ill-bewitched.
'This tale is told
And thou, an honoured stranger to our land,
Must sure have heard it said, and though the pearl
O'erprized of all that in the market place
Are offered forth for sale, is now thine own,
By strongest right of purchase, yet, beware,
For here, before me, hand upon his sword,
Stands yet this jealous djinn. Refrain awhile
Nor force not now this union dangerous
To my frail body and to thy dear soul.
Forbear awhile, and put thy trust in God,
That haply, though delayed, a cure may yet
Be found, and thus the door now closed,
May be wide open, while the evil tongues
Of those our enemies censorious
May be for ever silenced, bringing joy
Of satisfied desire to thee and me.'

This story Ibni Salam, simple soul
Believed, and took the tale of djinns as true.
He hoped that union with his love would come
With steady patience: less of life and rank
He thought to have, while yet his rank and life
An obstacle became to bar the road
O'er which this simpleton desired to pass.

There is a custom, old throughout the world,
That he who wishes gain must first have loss:
Who wants his love must first endure the pain
Of torment, just as he who wants the hoard
Of gathered treasure must the dragon face.
When first the lover manifests his love
He early learns the trials he must endure;
And when she sees endurance standing firm,
She quickly ends his torture with her charm,
Restores his fractured head with sweet caress.
But if of sweet endurance he should lack
No shadow of her union on him falls.
This danger now lay clear before the feet
Of Ibni Salam, turning this his day
Of joyous union, to a low despair
With separation crowned; yet not a look
He showed her of reproach, nor ventured near
The Idol of his soul, but nobly stood
And asked a healing for her discontent,
And swore to find the remedy desired.
And from that moment, when he saw the men
Who dealt in magic and enchantment dread,
He begged a chain to turn his grief to joy.

LVI
Herein are set forth the Quatrains that Mejnun sent to Leyla.

What is this, thy roaming in the Rose Garden with strangers?
Is it generous to ruin thus the structure of thy promise,
Giving privacy convivial, and granting hundred favours?-
But what of the vow that thou madest with us?

Thou hast listened so intently to claimants so importunate,
And drank until repletion of the cup that others held;
Thy love was thrown to others, and forgot for this unfortunate-
But what of the vow that thou madest with us?

Thy love, bestowed on others, while warming them has frozen me;
Thy path, that lay in sunlight, thou hast left for darkness black:
Thy life is treaties, promises and vows to others constantly-
But what of the vow that thou madest with us?

What sin or crime lay at our door, that thou, disgusted turned away
We suffered dismal grief while thou in sympathy inclined:
Can this, thy customed friendship, turn the day to night and right to
day-
But what of the vow that thou madest with us?

Like Fortune's giddy wheel, thou makest custom of a love unfair,
And, changing, like the wheel, thy name, once honoured, sinks in
shame:
To others, oft repeated love thou bast: to me alone the hydra care-
But what of the vow that thou madest with us?

Let not my heart be more dishevelled with the hair lock curling sweet;
Nor my heart bleed on for ever with the passion of thy lip;
No more let tears of sorrow flow a promise-breaker's name to greet-
But what of the vow that thou madest with us?

With hope of sad, sweet union, thou tookst our patience, peace of mind,
But day succeeded day, with every hope left unfulfilled:
My days are passed in greater grief than e'er Fuzuli brought to mind-
But what of the vow that thou madest with us?

LVII
Herein is set forth the Completion of Words, which recounts the Manner
of Zayd's taking of the Letter to Leyla.

The pen now laid aside, its labour o'er,
The loyal Zayd took the letter up
And swiftly, as a pigeon in its flight,
Sped off in haste to Leyla's country dear.
Arriving there, he sought by cunning ruse,
To meet her face to face, by boastful talk
Of magic, charms and ancient alchemy,
And slowly Ibni Salam's side attained.
He heard, with downcast mien the saddened state
That clung to Leyla's Kismet, of her grief
And sadly grieved life. At last he spoke:

'O, Ibni Salam, Prince of noble blood,
I here have written words of magic worth,
A prayer more potent than the doctors' drafts,
That, as I live, will cure the maid forlorn.'
Now Ibni Salam heard, and straight believed,
And close embracing Zayd, entered in
The chamber of Despair's lone privacy.
Thus luck helped skill, and Zayd's skill his luck,
And Leyla's presence saw his journey's end.
Some moments sat he silent, then erect
And firmly planted on his loyal feet,
Stretched forth a hand and held the letter out,
And paying honour, murmured yet a prayer,
Bestowed on it a kiss of love, then gave
The word of Mejnun into Leyla's hand.

The grieving Leyla, holding in her hand
The letter, caught the scent of heart's dear love.
She knew the writing of a stranger hand,
Yet not of Amr," nor the script of Zayd.
She knew that Fortune had a blessing sent,
And quickly to its message turned her eyes.
But as she read the op'ning bitter words,
She tore to shreds the garment of her soul.
Now let the ocean of her tearful eyes
Bring forth a million pearls, her bleeding heart
A million rubies from its treas'ry send,
That o'er the words, augmenting still their worth,
The precious jewels may scatter without end!
She read it all and understood its sense,
No gloss were needed for a single line
No single reference was lacking clue;
And then, with soul all pierced with sweet reproof,
She straightway wrote an answer to Mejnun

LVIII
Herein is set forth the Letter written by Leyla in reply to Mejnun, and
the Manner in which she made her Excuse.

Now flew the reed pen in fair Leyla's hand.
And on the waiting parchment writ her thoughts:

'O, God. Creator, Architect of all,
The Builder of each Treaty, every Vow;
The Giver of the Gifts of Wealth and Child;
Divine Creator out of Nothingness
Of all that has existence, bringing forth
From great Antiquity inventions new;
O, Thou, the Hairdresser of all the World,
Still moulding it to all Thy heart's desire;
Whose Threshold is the far Sublime; O, King,
This letter, written by a wounded soul,
By me, the restive one, must take its way
To him of honour and of noble rank,
To Mejnun, sick of heart, and sorely hurt.
O, thou, whose carpet is the earth, whose bed
Is tearing thorn, O, thou, the one desire
Of this my grieving heart and tearful eye:
Thy slanders and reproaches tear my heart,
Admitting they are just, while black with shame
My face is hung, dishonoured in thy sight.
Yet know that I, all overwhelmed with shame,
Still suffer pain unceasing. For my guilt
I make admission, yet compassion ask
Of thee who, thus accusing, seek'st excuse.

Thou knowest well that I am but the jewel
Within the market, haggled for by all.
Not mine the choice of market for my wares,
For Fortune blindly still the auction holds.
'Tis she, net I, who blindly makes the choice
Of buyer and of seller else, be sure
That none would purchase Leyla, saving thee.
If now an accusation harsh is made,
Let not thy hatred of me mount, nor yet
Grow wearied of me, for no pearl am I
That quickly purchased, quickly is engraved.
If it be true that Ibni Salam's heart,
Is cheered by me, his candle in the night,
And in day his sun, his sole content
Is found in seeing from afar the light,
For he and I are many leagues apart.
And still if he, afar, can see my beam
And revel in it, drawing near its fire
He finds a torment and a scorching pain.

Think not, my soul, that I in cheerfulness
Pursue my path, for, fettered in a net of grief
I find no power to go to market place,
Nor strength to raise my head from off my breast
See now my sorrow: when I wish to cry
I first roust find a reasonable excuse;
And either think of both my parents dear,
Or long association with my friends.
If grief supplies the impulse to destroy
My garments, then the maker of my robes
Must be at hand to furnish the pretext,
And under guise of anger at her faults
I then may rail and rend my dresses. See
I say, "this skirt is wrong, this pocket bad,"
And thus on false pretext, mask honest grief.
And then, those moments when I seek in vain
Sweet union with thee, I must go forth
And seek the fountain, there to take a bath,
And there, alone, I strip my body bare
And ravel up the hair upon my head,
And gaze upon the mirror of the stream,
And in my dissarray, see Mejnun there.

Around my neck no second collar rests,
The rubies of lips set forth no speech;
My neck seeks but the collar of thy arm,
My lips enquire of thine of zephyrs sweet.
From grief of thee I languish in my soul
All martyred by thy soul of cruelty.
Thy bloody curtain is my blood-stained shroud:
Though living still, rest me in my grave.
Think thus, that Leyla rests within a grave,
Think not that with a husband joys her life.

Come thou, and make a candle of thy sigh
To light my tomb; embellish it
With all the dust that lies upon thy road,
For I, though singing as a nightingale,
Sing but the dirge of separation's pain.
Though singing thus within a garden fair,
Know that the bulbul sings within a cage
Where all the future hides beneath a cloud
Of dark and dreary doubt, as thus with broken wing
And ruined pinion, mournfully I sing.

If now I find companionship with beast
And bird upon the wing, seek no reproof,
For rumour whispers that the bird and beast
Are now blood brother with thee. So am I.
O, sad, deserted lover, never blame
This saddened one who writes these saddened lines.
Wait patiently the day when Fortune smiles
And changes dismal days to happy hours.
Think not that only thou, to Sorrow bound
Art thin with dull Despair's bewilderment.
These quatrains con with understanding eye.
And know that with thee, Leyla sorrows too.'