Layla and Majnun by Nizami

Majnun would respond. And respond he most certainly did. While the silver-tongued Bedouin prince wove garlands of roses with his words of praise, Majnun added to them with the shimmering pearls of his poems. And although his verses were composed without preparation, they were as sweet as honey, as glowing as gold. Nowfal listened in awe and admiration. True, his guest was a wild man, a mere savage, but there could be no doubt that he was also a poet of the highest order, an alchemist of the tongue, a magician of words without equal.
    By the end of the evening, Nowfal had reached a decision: he would restore the shattered mirror of this poor man’s heart, piece by piece, however long it might take. Addressing his guest, he said, ‘You, my friend, are like the moth that flutters around in the darkness, clamouring for the candle flame: take care that you donot become like the candle, which cries hot tears while consuming itself in its own sorrow. Why have you given up? Why have you abandoned all hope? I have wealth and I have strength. Trust in me and I shall see to it that you receive that which Fate has decreed: Layla shall be yours. I promise this with all my heart. And even if she were to become a bird and escape into God’s boundless sky, or a spark of fire inside a flint of rock beneath God’s earth, I would seek her out and bring her to you. I shall not rest until I have united you both in marriage.’
    Majnun threw himself at Nowfal’s feet and praised God for sending him so noble a benefactor. Yet, there was still doubt in his mind when he said, ‘Your words still my heart and give me hope, but how do I know that they are not simply words? How can I be sure that you will do what you say, or whether indeed you possess the means to do what you say in the first place? I must tell you now that her parents will not give her in marriage to someone like me, to someone whose insanity is beyond doubt. “What?” they will say. “Are we to abandon this precious, fragile flower and allow her to be carried off by a whirlwind? Are we to let a madman play with a moonbeam? Are we to hand over our daughter to a demon? Never!” Yes, that is what they will say; you do not know them as I do. Others have tried to help me in the past, but in vain. However hard they tried, they could not make my dark fate any lighter. Nothing would sway her mother and father, no amount of gold and silver, of orchards and cattle, could make them change their minds. Thus you can see howhopeless my case is. Only a miracle could help me; tell me, are you a miracle-worker? I think not. Besides, I imagine that you will soon tire of the quest and turn back when only halfway.
    ‘But I hope not. My prayer is that you will succeed. And if you do succeed, may God reward you. But if the promise you have made is merely idle talk, and if that which you have offered is a mirage rather than a real oasis, then you had better tell me now.’
    The young man’s frank words served only to increase Nowfal’s admiration for him.
    ‘Do you really doubt my word?’ Nowfal asked. ‘Then, let us make a pact. In the name of God Almighty and His Prophet Muhammad I swear that I shall fight like a lion for you and your cause, sacrificing my life if need be.
    ‘I swear that I shall neither eat nor sleep until you attain that which your heart desires. But you must also promise something: you must promise me that you will practise patience and forbearance. You must try to give up your way of life, tame your wild heart and take it in hand, if only for a few days.
    ‘So, let us agree: you will damp down the fire that rages in your heart; I, for my part, will open the iron gateway to your treasure. Are these terms acceptable to you?’  
    Majnun agreed. And so, in return for his friend’s assistance, he began to quieten the storm that had raged in his heart for so long. Gradually, for the first time in many long months, peace began to seep back into his soul and the wounds