The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East, Volume 6 (of 14): Medieval Arabic, Moorish, and Turkish
Religion
The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East, Volume 6 (of 14): Medieval Arabic, Moorish, and Turkish
Oriental literature -- Translations into English
Thus we remained a long season; he produced for me daily some
pleasantness, and drove some doubt from my heart, until the hand
of want mixed for him the cup of parting, and the lack of a meal
urged him to abandon Irak; and the failures of supply cast him into
desert regions, and the waving of the banner of distress ranged him
in the line of travelers; and he sharpened for departure the edge of
determination, and journeyed away, drawing my heart with his leading
cord.
After he was gone none pleased me who kept by me, none filled me with
affection by urging me to intimacy.
Since he strayed away none has appeared to me his like in excellence;
no friend has gotten the equal of his qualities.
So he was hidden from me a season: I knew not his lair; I found none
to tell of him; but when I had returned from my wandering to the place
where my branch had sprouted, I was once present in the town library,
which is the council-hall of scholars, the meeting-place of residents
and strangers: Then there entered one with a thick beard and a squalid
aspect, and he saluted those who sat, and took seat in the last rows
of the people. Then began he to produce what was in his wallet, and to
astonish those present by the sagacity of his judgment. And he said to
the man who was next him, "What is the book into which thou lookest?"
He said, "The poems of Abu 'Obadeh; him of whose excellence men bear
witness." He said, "In what thou hast seen hast thou hit on any fine
thing which thou admirest?" He said, "Yes; the line,
As though she smiled from strung pearls or hailstones, or
camomile-flowers.
For it is original in the use of similitude which it contains." He said
to him, "Here is a wonder! here is a lack of taste, Sir, thou hast
taken for fat what is only swollen; thou hast blown on that which is no
fuel: where art thou in comparison with the rare verse which unites the
similitudes of the teeth?
My life a ransom for those teeth whose beauty charms, and which a
purity adorns sufficing thee for all other.
She parts her lips from fresh pearls, and from hail-stones, and from
camomile-flowers, and from the palm-shoot, and from bubbles.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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