Status Updates From لیلی و مجنون

But only the wind blowing from the mountains of Najd brought a breath of faith from a lonely man, or drove a cloud across, whose rain was, for Layla, a greeting from afar.

Sometimes, when no one was awake, the fountains of the moon made her step outside. There she stood, her eyes fixed on the path, waiting for whom?

With whom else could she talk about the thoughts which filled her heart? At night she told the secret to her shadow. She lived between the water of her tears and the fire of her love, as if she were a Peri, a fairy, hovering between fire and water.

Like Majnun, ever since their separation, she also burned in the fire of longing; but her flames were hidden and no smoke rose from them. Layla, too, had her 'mirror of pain' like the one which the doctor holds in front of a dying man's mouth to see whether a breath of life still clouds the glass; but Layla's mirror was her own soul which in her loneliness she questioned about her beloved.

Her body was like a cypress tree on which the pheasant of her face was sitting in majesty. Hundreds of lost hearts had already fallen into the well of her dimples, but our beauty took pity on those who had lost their footing and threw them her tresses as a rope to the rescue. So powerful was the spell of Layla's beauty.

A flower was Layla's face; anyone who looked at her, fell hungry for the honey of her lips and turned beggar for her kisses; but her eyelashes refused to give alms, and said, 'May God grant you what you desire, I shall give nothing.

In the meantime Layla had grown daily more beautiful. The promise of the bud had been kept by the blossom. Half an enticing glance from her eyes would have been enough to conquer a hundred kings; she could have plundered Arab or Turk, had she wanted.

Even if people heaped abuse and shame on him, they could find no fault in his verses.
Many came from near and far to hear the minstrel in his mountain retreat. Listening eagerly and loving what they heard, they wrote down his poems and took them away to the farthest horizons. Some became lovers themselves.

Even the old donkey does not throw down its burden before death takes it away. Why then should it fear death? You warned me, father; but what lover goes in fear of the sword? A man in love does not tremble for his life. He who searches for his beloved is not afraid of the world. Where is this sword? Let it smite me, as the cloud has swallowed my moon.

'Man, if he laughs at the wrong time, will fare no better; he will regret with tears that he laughed too soon.'

'The partridge was greatly upset. It did not stop to think; it just opened its beak to laugh heartily and said: "Really, it is my turn to laugh, and not yours." But by that time the ant had escaped from the re-opened prison, and the silly partridge was left alone in the field.

'There was once a partridge, which, when hunting, espied an ant, and seized in its beak one of the ant's legs. It was just about to swallow it when the ant laughed and shouted: "Partridge, to laugh as I do, that's one thing you are not capable of!"

Here Majnun interrupted himself and told this story to the Sayyid:
THE FABLE OF THE PARTRIDGE AND THE ANT:

You keep asking me, "Why do you never laugh?" But tears rather than laughter become the sufferer. If I were to laugh, it would be as if lightning and thunder were laughing as they broke the clouds; the fire burning inside me would scorch my lips, and I would perish in the furnace of my mirth. . . .

Not of its own will does the shadow fall into the depth of the well, not by its own power does the moon rise in the sky to its zenith. Wherever you look, from ant to elephant, you will find no object or creature, which is not ruled by fate.

You, whose Majesty equals that of Heaven itself, King of all our dwelling-places, inhabited or deserted, pride and glory of all Arabs, I kneel before you. I have received my life from you, may you never lose your own, and may I never lose you. Your words are scorching me—yet what can I do?

Do not argue! Even the prefect is out to destroy you, and if you play with madness you are forging an iron chain for yourself. Watch the sword, my child, drawn to smite you and take care of your life, while there is time. Make new friends, be gay, and laugh at the discomfort of your enemies!

Why do you give your heart to a rose? She blossoms without you, while you remain in the mud; she has a heart of stone—indeed your heart is being stoned!

It will come to you, only you must have patience. Let your happiness grow slowly. Even the mighty sea consists of single drops; even the mountain, cloud-high, of tiny grains of earth. And have you not all the time in the world? With patience, you can search at ease for the precious stone. Be prudent! The dumb fall behind, like the worm without feet, but the clever fox can overcome the stronger wolf.

Do not despair. Some little thing, useless as it may appear to you, can bring salvation. Despair may lead to hope just as night leads to dawn, if only you have faith. Look for the company of gay people, do not flee from happiness. Bliss can undo all knots; it is the turquoise in the seal of God.

You try to become drunk without wine, you worship desire for its own sake. You have fled and left the harvest to the wind, you have abandoned me to the gloating satisfaction of my enemies. Regain your senses before it is too late. Do not forget: while you are playing the harp of your love, I am mourning for you, and when you are rending your garments asunder you are tearing my soul.

Perhaps you are not patient enough. You are persistent only in keeping away from me, your friend. You hardly look at me. But he who flees and keeps aloof, remains alone with the longing of his heart.

If one day you hope to marry, such lack of self-control is a great fault. Even if we do not like to show our weakness to the world, we should have friends, genuine and true like mirrors, clearly revealing our faults so that we can face and cure them. Let me be your mirror. Free your heart from this illness. Do not try any longer to forge a cold iron.