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29 29 ʿUdhrī Ghazal: a poem attributed to Majnūn Laylā ِ‫ب‬ �‫ا‬ ‫�ذ‬ � َ ‫ع‬ � ‫ي‬ � � ‫�ف‬ � � ‫ي‬ � �‫ب‬ �‫ل‬�� ‫ق‬ � � � ّ‫ن‬ � ‫�إ‬ ‫ي‬ � � ‫ك‬ � � �‫ب‬� ‫أ‬ �‫و‬�� ‫�ا‬‫ه‬ � ‫ن‬ �‫م‬� ‫ب‬ �‫ر‬ ُ ّ‫ت‬ ��‫ل‬� � ‫ا‬ ‫ي‬ � � ‫�ف‬ � � ً‫ة‬ �‫ر‬‫و‬�‫ص‬� � ‫ر‬ ّ ‫و‬�‫ص‬� � ‫أ‬ � ِ‫ب‬ �‫ص�ا‬� � ُ ‫م‬ ‫ل‬ �� ‫ا‬ ‫م‬ � ِ‫�ظ‬ �� � ‫ع‬ � ٍ ‫ف‬ ��‫ن‬ �� ْ ‫�د‬ ُ ‫م‬� َ‫ة‬ ��‫ي‬ ��‫ك�ا‬ � � � ‫ش‬ ��� ‫�ا‬‫ه‬ �‫ي‬ �‫ل‬� � ‫�إ‬ ‫�ا‬‫ه‬ � ‫ن‬ �‫م‬� ‫�ا‬‫�ه‬‫ر‬ ‫ج‬ � � ‫ه‬� ‫و‬�‫ك‬ � � � ‫ش‬ ��� ‫أ‬ �‫و‬�� ʾuṣawwiru ṣūratan fī t-turbi minhā wa-ʾabkī ʾinna qalbī fī ʿadhābī wa-ʾashkū hajrahā minhā ʾilayhā shikāyata mudnafin ʿaẓimi l-muṣābī119 Meter (al-wāfir): SLSSL SLSSL SLL / SLSSL SLSSL SLL (SS may be replaced by L). Qays ibn al-Mulawwaḥ, nicknamed Majnūn Laylā (“Laylā’s Madman”), or al-Majnūn for short, is said to have lived in the Umayyad period. He is very likely legendary or semi-legendary; there is little point in worrying about the authenticity of this or other poems attributed to him (any poem of uncertain provenance mentioning a Laylā could be ascribed to him). The story of al-Majnūn’s unhappy love for Laylā is the most famous one among several similar stories (such as the story of Qays ibn Dharīḥ and Lubnā translated below). Although al-Majnūn was not of the tribe of ʿUdhrah, his verse is characteristic of what is known as ʿUdhrite ghazal. The central motif of the poem, picturing the beloved in the dust, is also found in a poem by Bashshār ibn Burd (d. ca. 167/784), and the present poem may well be based on his, rather than the reverse. I draw a picture of her in the dust and cry, my heart in torment. I complain to her about her: for she left me, love-sick, badly stricken. I complain of all the passion I have suffered, with a plaint toward the dust.120 Love makes me want to turn to Laylā’s land, complaining of my passion and the flames in me. 30 30 30 30 Verse I make rain fall upon the dust from my eyes’ clouds; my heart is in distress and grief. I complain of my great passion while my tears are flowing, streaming. I’m talking to her picture in the dust: as if the dust were listening to me, As if I were near her, complaining to her of my plight, while talking to the dust. No one returns an answer to my words, not even the reproacher answers me. So I turn back, hope dashed, tears pouring down as if from showering clouds, Truly, madly possessed by her,121 my heart in torment for the love of her. 5 10 ...


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