{"product_id":"layli-and-majnun-isbn-9780143133995","title":"Layli and Majnun","description":"\u003cb\u003eThe Persian epic that inspired Eric Clapton's unforgettable love song \"Layla\" and that Lord Byron called \"the \u003ci\u003eRomeo and Juliet\u003c\/i\u003e of the East,\" in a masterly new translation\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA Penguin Classic\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe iconic love story of the Middle East, by a twelfth-century Persian poet who has been compared to Shakespeare for his subtlety, inventiveness, and dramatic force, \u003ci\u003eLayli and Majnun\u003c\/i\u003e tells of star-crossed lovers whose union is tragically thwarted by their families and whose passion continues to ripple out across the centuries. Theirs is a love that lasts a lifetime, and in Nezami's immortal telling, erotic longing blends with spiritual self-denial in an allegory of Sufi aspiration, as the amenities of civilization give way to the elemental wilderness, desire is sublimated into a mystical renunciation of the physical world, and the soul confronts its essence. This is a tour de force of Persian literature, in a translation that captures the extraordinary power and virtuosity of the original.“A highly engaging tale of impossible love . . . The first verse translation of the 12th-century Persian poet Nezami . . . Davis’s rhythmic translation is full of lush imagery.” ―\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Nezami . . . paints a visionary world full of erotic tension and trepidation which is both sublimated and enriched with psychological chiaroscuro.” ―\u003cb\u003eItalo Calvino\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eNezami Ganjavi \u003c\/b\u003e(1141-1209) is considered the greatest romantic epic poet in Persian literature. A Sunni Muslim born to a Persian father and a Kurdish mother, he lived most of his life in his hometown of Ganjeh, in present-day Azerbaijan. He was married three times; all three of his wives predeceased him, and, rarely for a Persian poet of his time, he wrote with apparently heartfelt and surprisingly personal eloquence about his affection for them and his sorrow at losing them. His introduction of an element of mysticism into his romance narratives is an innovation that was followed by most of his many imitators.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eDick Davis \u003c\/b\u003e(translator\/introducer) is the foremost English-speaking scholar of medieval Persian poetry in the West and \"our finest translator of Persian poetry\" (\u003ci\u003eThe Times Literary Supplement\u003c\/i\u003e). A fellow of the Royal Society of Literature and an emeritus professor of Persian at Ohio State University, he has published more than twenty books. His other translations from Persian include \u003ci\u003eThe Conference of the Birds\u003c\/i\u003e; \u003ci\u003eVis and Ramin\u003c\/i\u003e; \u003ci\u003eThe Mirror of My Heart: A Thousand Years of Persian Poetry by Women\u003c\/i\u003e; \u003ci\u003eFaces of Love: Hafez and the Poets of Shiraz\u003c\/i\u003e; and \u003ci\u003eShahnameh: The Persian Book of Kings\u003c\/i\u003e, one of \u003ci\u003eThe Washington Post\u003c\/i\u003e's ten best books of 2006. Davis lives in Columbus, Ohio.\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe Beginning of the Story\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHear what the teller of this history said\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBy stringing speech's pearls on verse's thread.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThere lived an Arab king, whose excellence\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIncreased his splendid realm's magnificence;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLord of the Amir tribe, his virtues nourished\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis prosperous country, which grew great and flourished.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe sweet breeze of his fame made Arab lands\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMore fragrant than the wine cup in his hands-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA lord of virtues, chivalry's copestone,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFor worth-in all the world-he stood alone,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAn Arab king, successful beyond measure,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWealthy as Korah, rich with endless treasure,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAttentive to the poor, and to his friends\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA generous host whose kindness never ends,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs though Good Fortune were the soul within\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis nature, like a pith beneath the skin.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut he was childless still, for all his fame,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd like a candle when it has no flame.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMore needy than a shell for pearls, or than\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA husk without its seeds, this desperate man\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLonged for a son, for Fate to let him see\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA fruitful branch spring from the royal tree,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHoping that when the cypress seed was sown\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnother cypress would have quickly grown,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSo that a pheasant in the meadows would\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePerceive a new tree where the old had stood,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd once that tree's allotted life had passed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe'd shelter in the shade the new tree cast.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA man survives if in the world somewhere\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis memory lives within his son and heir.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd to this end he gave in charity\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMoney to mendicants perpetually,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGiving out gold to gain the moon; but though\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe sowed the seed he saw no seedling grow.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe sought and did not find, for all his pains,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd rode straight on, and would not tug his reins\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd stop or turn aside, and still it seemed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe'd never find the son of whom he dreamed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e(And if you seek like this in vain, accept\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat this is not an outcome to regret,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhatever good or bad is brought by Fate-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLook, and you'll see that it's appropriate:\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat pearl you thought you wanted, look once more\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd see that it's not worth your struggling for.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMany desires don't see the light of day\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd men are lucky that they stay this way!\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMen dash this way and that, all unaware\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOf what is best for them and why or where;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe clues to how Fate works are hard to see-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMany a lock when looked at is a key.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePoor wretched man! A breath of wind's enough\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo scatter all his dust-a tiny puff!\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBe strong within this pit of little worth,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eConsign to earth whatever comes from earth.)\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut still he longed, like rubies in a mine\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat vainly long for light to make them shine,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd since his longing had been so intense,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGod gave a son to him, in recompense-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA child whose rosy body blushed as though\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt shared a pomegranate's ruddy glow,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA shining jewel that made earth's sullen night\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs radiant as the dawn's resplendent light.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen he beheld the son he'd hungered for,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe father opened wide his treasury door,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd as a rose sheds petals, in his joy\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe gave out gold in honor of the boy.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe ordered that a wet-nurse take his son\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd rear him with her milk to make him strong;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTime like another wet-nurse kindly smiled\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd nourished with her strength the growing child;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEach time his lovely lips and milk united\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePrayers were both written for him and recited,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd when they gave him food they also gave him\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTheir hearts that would do anything to save him,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd carefully they dabbed a dark blue dye\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eUpon his cheeks, to thwart the evil eye.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen milk had touched his tulip lips, they grew\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLike jasmine petals with their milky hue;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYou'd say his milk was mixed with honeycomb\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOr that his cradle was the full moon's home-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat moon in two weeks was as beautiful\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs is the heavens' moon when she is full;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eQais was the name they gave the royal child\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd faith's rites kept him pure and undefiled,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGrowing in grace until a year had passed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd his perfection was now unsurpassed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLove fashioned him, and love's bright jewel now shone\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWith greater luster from this royal son.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis happy second year, and third, were spent\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn gardens of sweet kindness and content.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAt seven, ringlets clustered round his face\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLike tulips held in violets' dark embrace,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFrom seven to ten his beauty and renown\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBecame the common gossip of the town,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFrom those who glimpsed his face astonished sighs\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd prayers arose like winds into the skies,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA face that filled his father's soul with joy;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe knew the time had come to send the boy\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo school, and so he chose a master, one\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWho'd day and night take pains to teach his son.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSoon others, drawn there by his reputation,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCame to the same school for their education;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWith hope and fear the children did their best\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo learn their lessons and to pass each test-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAmong these clever boys, a few girls shared\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTheir classroom, and the lessons they prepared.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFrom different clans and tribes, from far and wide,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn school they were together, side by side-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd Qais's lips were rubies spilling pearls,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eReading his lessons with the boys and girls.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e*\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd from another clan, a different shell,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAn unpierced pearl was in his class as well,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA young girl, nobly born, intelligent,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA girl as pure as she was elegant,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs splendid as the moon, as slender as\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe comely shape a cypress sapling has.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer playful little glances were like darts\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat pierced not one but many thousand hearts,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer doe-like eyes each moment seemed to slay\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA world each time they looked and looked away,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer face an Arab moon, and yet a Turk\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn stealing hearts and suchlike handiwork.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe hair upon her head was dark as night,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer pretty face a garden of delight-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer face framed by her hair appeared as though\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA shining torch were flourished by a crow;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA tiny mouth of such sweet elegance,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA sugar grain whose savor was intense-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer mouth was just like sugar, you might say,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIf sugar routed armies in this way.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe seemed to be a charm against disaster,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWorthy to join the pupils and their master;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe seemed life's hidden beauty, and in truth\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe best line in a poem praising youth.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer forehead's beads of sweat, her fragrant hair\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWere all the necklaces she chose to wear,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer mother's milk accounted for her eyes\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd blushing cheeks, not make-up's specious lies;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer tumbling curls, her little mole were all\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe jewels she needed to be beautiful;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer lovely hair was dark as night; her name\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWas Layli, and she set all hearts aflame.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd seeing her, Qais gave his heart away\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e(For love it seemed a paltry price to pay),\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd Layli too loved Qais as he loved her,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn both their breasts young love began to stir.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLove gave them its new wine, which worked within\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThese two so innocent of guile and sin\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e(The first time that we're drunk's the worst of all,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNo fall hurts like the first time that we fall);\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOnce they had smelled love's roses, come what may,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThey were together all day, every day.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eQais gave his soul up for her beauty's sake,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe stole her heart, his soul was hers to take;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe saw his face and gave her heart, but knew\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe must still act as chaste girls have to do.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTheir friends were busy studying, while they\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWere busy with the words true lovers say;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTheir friends were making speeches, they delighted\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn other words than those their friends recited;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTheir friends debated grammar, their debates\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eConcerned the noble feelings love creates;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTheir friends read learnd pages, while they sighed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eUnstintingly, since love was now their guide-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThey only saw each other, unaware\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOf all their many friends assembled there.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eLayli and Majnun Fall in Love with Each Other\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs beautiful as Joseph to men's eyes\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEach dawn the sun lit up the eastern skies,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLike a ripe orange, lovely to behold,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTurning the heavens from basil's green to gold;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLayli sat with her chin propped on her fist\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSo beautiful that no one could resist\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer loveliness, and like Zuleikha's maids\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWho cut their careless hands with sharpened blades,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThose seeing Layli's beauty felt such thirst\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThey were like pomegranates fit to burst.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen Qais caught sight of her, his face turned sallow\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs if it shared the dawn skies' golden yellow;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTheir mingled scents were sweet, as though no care\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOr sorrow could survive when they were there,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut even so their mingled, bitter cries\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eProclaimed their sadness to the morning skies.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLove came; its sword did not discriminate\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut cleared the house, and left it to its fate-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt took their hearts, and gave them grief, and made\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThem anxious, and bewildered, and afraid.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTheir promised hearts became the subject of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGossip that spread the rumor of their love;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe veil was torn apart, their tale was heard\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOn every side, repeated word for word,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFrom mouth to mouth the secret story flew,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhat one man knew, another quickly knew.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe lovers were discreet, and tried in vain\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo keep clandestine what was all too plain-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAlthough the musk deer's navel dries, the scent\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOf musk stays richly strong and redolent;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe wind that bears a lover's scent removes\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe veil from all the loveliness he loves.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWith feigned indifference they tried hard to hide\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe naked passion that they felt inside,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd when did feigned indifference work? Can clay\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eObscure the sun, or make it go away?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen longing eyes tell tales, how can there be\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA story that stays veiled in secrecy?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd when a thousand curls have chained a lover,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThere can be no escape, the struggle's over;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe theft has happened; if a lover's wise\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe knows it happened right before his eyes.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNow he was smitten, lovesick, wholly caught\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWithin the tightening collar love had wrought-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe loved her beauty with such fervor, Qais\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCould find no rest or peace in any place-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe only talked of her, which made him more\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eImpatient and distracted than before;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis heart and senses tumbled down pell-mell,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe sack ripped open and the donkey fell;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd those who had not fallen as he had\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCalled him \"Majnun,\" which means, \"A man who's mad,\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhile he with helpless cries give witness to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe fact that what they said of him was true.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLike barking dogs that drive away a fawn\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo keep it from a newly growing lawn,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThey cruelly teased Majnun, and hid the bright\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNew moon his longing searched for from his sight.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCut off from him now, Layli secretly\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWept pearl-like tears for him continuously;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDeprived of Layli's face, Majnun's tears dropped\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn copious flowing floods that never stopped.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe wandered through the streets and market place\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWith anguish in his heart, tears on his face,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSinging sad lovers' songs whose melodies\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd words delineate love's miseries,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd men yelled, as they teased and laughed at him,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Majnun! Majnun!\" before and after him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhile he, for his part, simply let things go,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSunk as he was so deep in crazy woe,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs if he led an ass that slipped its reins\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd let it wander off across the plains.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis heart was like a pomegranate split\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn two, and he'd kept only half of it;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe tried so hard to hide his heart's desire\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut who can hide a heart when it's on fire?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was as if his heart's blood rose around him\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eUntil it rose above his head and drowned him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe grieved for her who could relieve his grief\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd in whose absence grief found no relief;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe was a candle, useless in the day,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAt night unsleeping as it burns away.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was himself to whom he gave such pain,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFor whom he searched for anodynes in vain-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe tore his soul out in the search, and beat\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis head against the thresholds at men's feet.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAs each dawn broke he scrambled to make haste,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo run barefoot into the desert waste.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eApart, these lovers had to be content\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWith seeking out each other's wafted scent-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe'd leave his house and make his way each night\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo Layli's street, and wait there out of sight,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd in the dark he'd kiss her door and then\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eReluctantly he'd go back home again;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis coming was the north wind, but his leaving\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWas like an endless age that's spent in grieving,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn coming he'd a thousand wings to speed him,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eReturning home thorns sprang up to impede him,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe went like water flowing, but coming back\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA hundred obstacles obscured his track,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd even when he walked with blistered feet\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe felt he rode a horse to Layli's street.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWith wind behind him and a pit ahead,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe went back home to torture, tears, and dread-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIf Fortune waited at his beck and call\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe never would have gone back home at all.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Penguin Classics","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300906717413,"sku":"NP9780143133995","price":18.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780143133995.jpg?v=1767731205","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/layli-and-majnun-isbn-9780143133995","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}