One Thousand and One Nights

by Richard Burton

  Indeed, it sufficeth the lover the time that his tears have run;

  As for affliction, of patience it hath him all fordone.

  He who concealeth the secrets conjoined us heretofore And now His

  hand hath severed that which Himself made one.

  When he had finished, I said to him, ‘O my lord, I would fain return to my house; it may be the damsel will come back to me with news.’ ‘It is well,’ answered he; ‘go and return to me speedily with news, for thou seest my condition.’ So I took leave of him and went home. Hardly had I sat down, when up came the damsel, choked with her tears. ‘What is the matter?’ asked I, and she said, ‘O my lord, what we feared has fallen on us; for, when I returned yesterday to my lady, I found her enraged with one of the two maids who were with us the other night, and she ordered her to be beaten. The girl took fright and ran away; but one of the gate-keepers stopped her and would have sent her back to her mistress. However, she let fall some hints, which excited his curiosity; so he coaxed her and led her on to talk, and she acquainted him with our case. This came to the ears of the Khalif, who bade remove my mistress and all her gear to his own palace and set over her a guard of twenty eunuchs. Since then he has not visited her nor given her to know the cause of his action, but I suspect this to be the cause; wherefore I am in fear for myself and am perplexed, O my lord, knowing not what I shall do nor how I shall order my affair and hers, for she had none more trusted nor trustier than myself. So do thou go quickly to Ali ben Bekkar and acquaint him with this, that he may be on his guard; and if the affair be discovered, we will cast about for a means of saving ourselves.’ At this, I was sore troubled and the world grew dark in my sight for the girl’s words. Then she turned to go, and I said to her, ‘What is to be done?’ Quoth she, ‘My counsel is that thou hasten to Ali ben Bekkar, if thou be indeed his friend and desire his escape; thine be it to carry him the news forthright, and be it mine to watch for further news.’ Then she took her leave of me and went away. I followed her out and betaking myself to Ali ben Bekkar, found him flattering himself with hopes of speedy enjoyment and staying himself with vain expectations. When he saw me, he said, ‘I see thou hast come back to me forthwith’ ‘Summon up all thy patience,’ answered I, ‘and put away thy vain doting and shake off thy preoccupation, for there hath befallen that which may bring about the loss of thy life and goods.’ When he heard this, he was troubled and his colour changed and he said to me, ‘O my brother, tell me what hath happened.’ ‘O my lord,’ replied I, ‘such and such things have happened and thou art lost without recourse, if thou abide in this thy house till the end of the day.’ At this he was confounded and his soul well-nigh departed his body, but he recovered himself and said to me, ‘What shall I do, O my brother, and what is thine advice?’ ‘My advice,’ answered I, ‘is that thou take what thou canst of thy property and whom of thy servants thou trustest and flee with me to a land other than this, ere the day come to an end.’ And he said, ‘I hear and obey.’ So he rose, giddy and dazed, now walking and now falling down and took what came under his hand. Then he made an excuse to his household and gave them his last injunctions, after which he loaded three camels and mounted his hackney. I did the like and we went forth privily in disguise and fared on all day and night, till nigh upon morning, when we unloaded and hobbling our camels, lay down to sleep; but, being worn with fatigue, we neglected to keep watch, so that there fell on us robbers, who stripped us of all we had and slew our servants, when they would have defended us, after which they made off with their booty, leaving us naked and in the sorriest of plights. As soon as they were gone, we arose and walked on till morning, when we came to a village and took refuge in its mosque. We sat in a corner of the mosque all that day and the next night, without meat or drink; and at daybreak, we prayed the morning prayer and sat down again. Presently, a man entered and saluting us, prayed a two-bow prayer, after which he turned to us and said, ‘O folk, are ye strangers?’ ‘Yes,’ answered we, ‘robbers waylaid us and stripped us, and we came to this town, but know none here with whom we may shelter.’ Quoth he, ‘What say you? Will you come home with me?’ And I said to Ali ben Bekkar, ‘Let us go with him, and we shall escape two evils; first, our fear lest some one who knows us enter the mosque and so we be discovered; and secondly, that we are strangers and have no place to lodge in.’ ‘As thou wilt,’ answered he. Then the man said to us again, ‘O poor folk, give ear unto me and come with me to my house.’ ‘We hear and obey,’ answered I; whereupon he pulled off a part of his own clothes and covered us therewith and made his excuses to us and spoke kindly to us. Then we accompanied him to his house and he knocked at the door, whereupon a little servant came out and opened to us. We entered after our host, who called for a parcel of clothes and muslin for turbans, and gave us each a suit of clothes and a piece of muslin; so we made us turbans and sat down. Presently, in came a damsel with a tray of food and set it before us, saying, ‘Eat.’ We ate a little and she took away the tray; after which we abode with our host till nightfall, when Ali ben Bekkar sighed and said to me, ‘Know, O my brother, that I am a dead man and I have a charge to give thee: it is that, when thou seest me dead, thou go to my mother and tell her and bid her come hither, that she may be present at the washing of my body and take order for my funeral; and do thou exhort her to bear my loss with patience.’ Then he fell down in a swoon and when he revived, he heard a damsel singing afar off and addressed himself to give ear to her and hearken to her voice; and now he was absent from the world and now came to himself, and anon he wept for grief and mourning at what had befallen him. Presently, he heard the damsel sing the following verses:

  Parting hath wrought in haste our union to undo After the

  straitest loves and concord ‘twixt us two.

  The shifts of night and day have torn our lives apart. When shall

  we meet again? Ah, would to God I knew!

  After conjoined delight, how bitter sev’rance is! Would God it

  had no power to baffle lovers true!

  Death’s anguish hath its hour, then endeth; but the pain Of

  sev’rance from the loved at heart is ever new.

  Could we but find a way to come at parting’s self, We’d surely

  make it taste of parting’s cup of rue.

  When he heard this, he gave one sob and his soul quitted his body. As soon as I saw that he was dead, I committed his body to the care of the master of the house and said to him, ‘I go to Baghdad, to tell his mother and kinsfolk, that they may come hither and take order for his burial’ So I betook myself to Baghdad and going to my house, changed my clothes, after which I repaired to Ali ben Bekkar’s lodging. When his servants saw me, they came to me and questioned me of him, and I bade them ask leave for me to go in to his mother. She bade admit me; so I entered and saluting her, said, ‘Verily God orders the lives of all creatures by His commandment and when He decreeth aught, there is no escaping its fulfilment, nor can any soul depart but by His leave, according to the Writ which prescribeth the appointed terms.’ She guessed by these words that her son was dead and wept sore, then she said to me, ‘I conjure thee by Allah, tell me, is my son dead?’ I could not answer her for tears and much grief, and when she saw me thus, she was choked with weeping and fell down in a swoon. As soon as she came to herself, she said to me, ‘Tell me how my son died.’ ‘May God abundantly requite thee for him!’ answered I and told her all that had befallen him, from first to last. ‘Did he give thee any charge?’ asked she. ‘Yes,’ answered I and told her what he had said, adding, ‘Hasten to take order for his funeral.’ When she heard this, she swooned away again; and when she recovered, she addressed herself to do as I bade her. Then I returned to my house; and as I went along, musing sadly upon his fair youth, a woman caught hold of my hand. I looked at her and behold, it was Shemsennehar’s slave-girl, broken for grief. When we knew each other, we both wept and gave not over weeping till we reached my house, and I said to her, ‘Knowest thou the news of A
li ben Bekkar?’ ‘No, by Allah,’ replied she; so I told her the manner of his death and all that had passed, whilst we both wept; after which I said to her, ‘And how is it with thy mistress?’ Quoth she, ‘The Khalif would not hear a word against her, but saw all her actions in a favourable light, of the great love he bore her, and said to her, “O Shemsennehar, thou art dear to me and I will bear with thee and cherish thee, despite thine enemies.” Then he bade furnish her a saloon decorated with gold and a handsome sleeping-chamber, and she abode with him in all ease of life and high favour. One day, as he sat at wine, according to his wont, with his favourites before him, he bade them be seated in their places and made Shemsennehar sit by his side. (Now her patience was exhausted and her disorder redoubled upon her.) Then he bade one of the damsels sing: so she took a lute and tuning it, preluded and sang the following verses:

  One sought me of lore and I yielded and gave him that which he

  sought. And my tears write the tale of my transport in

  furrows upon my cheek.

  Meseemeth as if the teardrops were ware, indeed, of our case And

  hide what I’d fain discover and tell what to hide I seek.

  How can I hope to be secret and hide the love that I feel, Whenas

  the stress of my longing my passion for thee doth speak?

  Death, since the loss of my loved ones, is sweet to me: would I

  knew What unto them is pleasant, now that they’ve lost me

  eke!

  When Shemsennehar heard these verses, she could not keep her seat, but fell down in a swoon, whereupon the Khalif threw the cup from his hand and drew her to him, crying out. The damsels clamoured and he turned her over and shook her, and behold, she was dead. The Khalif grieved sore for her death and bade break all the vessels and lutes and other instruments of mirth and music in the place; then carrying her body to his closet, he abode with her the rest of the night. When the day broke, he laid her out and commanded to wash her and shroud her and bury her. And he mourned very sore for her and questioned not of her case nor what ailed her. And I beg thee in God’s name,’ continued the damsel, ‘to let me know the day of the coming of Ali ben Bekkar’s funeral train, that I may be present at his burial.’ Quoth I, ‘For myself, thou canst find me where thou wilt; but thou, who can come at thee where thou art?’ ‘On the day of Shemsennehar’s death,’ answered she, ‘the Commander of the Faithful freed all her women, myself among the rest; and we are now abiding at the tomb in such a place.’ So I accompanied her to the burial-ground and visited Shemennehar’s tomb; after which I went my way and awaited the coming of Ali ben Bekkar’s funeral. When it arrived, the people of Baghdad went forth to meet it and I with them; and I saw the damsel among the women and she the loudest of them in lamentation, crying out and wailing with a voice that rent the vitals and made the heart ache. Never was seen in Baghdad a greater funeral than his and we ceased not to follow in crowds, till we reached the cemetery and buried him to the mercy of God the most High; nor from that time to this have I ceased to visit his tomb and that of Shemsennehar.” This, then, is their story, and may God the Most High have mercy upon them!

  John Payne’s translation: detailed table of contents

  KEMEREZZEMAN AND BUDOUR.

  There was once, of old time, a king called Shehriman, who was lord of many troops and guards and officers and reigned over certain islands, known as the Khalidan Islands, on the borders of the land of the Persians; but he was grown old and decrepit, without having been blessed with a son, albeit he had four wives, daughters of kings, and threescore concubines, with each of whom he was wont to lie one night in turn. This preyed upon his mind and disquieted him, so that he complained thereof to one of his Viziers, saying, ‘I fear lest my kingdom be lost, when I die, for that I have no son to take it after me.’ ‘O King,’ answered the Vizier, ‘peradventure God shall yet provide for this; do thou put thy trust in Him and be constant in supplication to Him.’ So the King rose and making his ablutions, prayed a two-bow prayer with a believing heart; after which he called one of his wives to bed and lay with her forthright. By God’s grace, she conceived by him and when her months were accomplished, she bore a male child, like the moon on the night of its full. The King named him Kemerezzeman and rejoiced in him with exceeding joy and bade decorate the city in his honour. So they decorated the city seven days, whilst the drums beat and the messengers bore the glad tidings abroad. Meanwhile nurses and attendants were provided for the boy and he was reared in splendour and delight, until he reached the age of fifteen. He grew up of surpassing beauty and symmetry, and his father loved him very dear, so that he could not brook to be parted from him day or night. One day, he complained to one of his Viziers of the excess of his love for his son, saying, ‘O Vizier, of a truth I fear the shifts and accidents of fortune for my son Kemerezzeman and fain would I marry him in my lifetime.’ ‘O King,’ answered the Vizier, ‘marriage is one of the most honourable of actions, and thou wouldst indeed do well to marry thy son in thy lifetime, ere thou make him king.’ Quoth the King, ‘Fetch me my son;’ so Kemerezzeman came and bowed his head before his father, out of modesty. ‘O Kemerezzeman,’ said the King, ‘I desire to marry thee and rejoice in thee in my lifetime.’ ‘O my father,’ answered the prince, ‘know that I have no wish to marry, nor doth my soul incline to women; for that I have read many books and heard much talk concerning their craft and perfidy, even as saith the poet: