The Exotic
1001 Arabian Nights
This Friday, I am giving you poem out of the enchanting 1001 Arabian Nights. This is from the newer translation by Malcolm C. Lyons.
If you have never read 1001 Nights, you have missed something special. On many levels. Firstly, the stories are amazing. They weave one into the other, they are stories within stories. I don’t know of any book in English that does this. Secondly, it is an introduction to the exotic world of the Near East, and Asia in general. Any individual that boasts about multiculturalism and has not read this book, has only paid lip service to true multiculturalism. One does gain an insight to the people of the North Africa, Arabia, Palestine, Syria, India, and China. Because that is where these stories originated. Thirdly, if one loves poetry, the book is full of it.
This is my third reading of the the Nights. This time around I am reading this new translation. It is wonderful, for it make the Nights so accessible by an English speaking reader. In addition to that, Lyons has translated the entire canon of stories. It’s all here! Other translators have not, they only picked and chose the stories they liked. Usually, the safe ones.
Like any book that represents another culture, there are always surprises. The surprise here for many of us in the West is how frank, how straightforward, the East is about sex. And love. Our emotions in the West pale when it comes to love. The poem below is an example of that super romantic attitude the East holds. It is guessed, by many scholars of the troubadours, and their works, that the Crusaders picked up on this way of the Easterners when in the Near East, thus bringing the romantic attitudes and poetry here to the West.
There is no title to this poem as poetry is constantly recited by the characters throughout the stories they tell. In this story, the character, a businessman, sees a woman approaching his shop. The first part of the poem is from the man’s perspective, and it is followed by the woman’s response.
Say to the lovely girl in the veil of the ringdove’s colouring: ‘It is certain that only death will relieve me from the torture you inflict.
Grant me union, that may perhaps give me life. Here is my hand stretched to you, hoping for bounty.’
The woman replies:
I cannot bear the pangs of love, but may you find relief, Whereas my heart loves none but you. If my eyes look at any loveliness but yours, May this parting lead to no delight.
I have sworn an oath never to forget your love; My heart is sad, though proud that we once met.
Passion has poured a brimming glass of love. Would that it poured for you what it has poured for me.
Take my corpse with you on your travels, And where you halt, bury me facing you. Call my name by my grave, and then my bones Will groan in answer when they hear your call.
If I were asked what I desire from God, I would reply: ‘His favour, Merciful is He, followed by yours.’
Big swoon here.