Safar Nameh, Persian Pictures: A Book Of TravelBell, Gertrude Lowthian
Science
Safar Nameh, Persian Pictures: A Book Of Travel
Bell, Gertrude Lowthian
Iran -- Description and travel
We retired, therefore, to rest, but an Eastern night is not meant
for sleep. The animals of the village shared this conviction to the
full. The horses, our near neighbours, moved to and fro, and tugged
impatiently against their tethering ropes; a traveller riding down
the stony streets was saluted by a mad outcry of dogs, who felt it
incumbent upon them to keep up a fitful barking long after the sound of
his footsteps had died away; and stealthy cats crept round our beds,
and considered (not without envy) the softness of our blankets. It was
too light for sleep. The moon flooded high heaven, and where the shadow
of the wall ended, the intense brightness beat even through closed
eyelids. The world was too lovely for sleep. It summoned you forth to
watch and to wonder, to listen to the soft rush of mountain streams and
the whispering of poplar leaves, to loiter through the vacant palace
rooms where the moonbeams fell in patches from the latticed windows,
to gaze down the terraced gardens bathed in the deceptive light which
seemed to lay everything bare, and yet hid neglect and decay, to strain
your eyes towards the shimmering mud roofs on which the villagers
snatched a broken rest, turning over with a sigh and a muttered prayer
or rising to seek a smoother bed; and yet away towards the dim ranges
of mountains that stretched southwards. All the witchery of an Eastern
night lay upon Afcheh--surely, if Shahrazad had but once conducted her
lord to his open window, she might have spared her fertile imagination
many an effort.
In the early hours of the morning the moon set, and darkness fell upon
the world, for though the sky was alive with newly revealed stars,
their rays were lost in the depths of heaven, and left night to reign
on the earth. A little wind shivered through the poplars in the garden,
warning us it was time to continue on our way if we would reach the top
of the next pass before the heat of day fell upon us, and we drank an
early cup of tea in the dark, and waited under the clump of trees that
served for stables while the mules were loaded and the horses saddled.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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