Moorish Literature Part 37

The citizeness said to the Bedouine: "Look at thy similars and thou shalt see In them but rustics, true dogs of the camp.

Now what art thou beside a city girl?

Thou art a Bedouine. Dost thou not dream Of goat-skin bottles to be filled at dawn?

And loads of wood that thou must daily cut?

And how thou'rt doomed to turn the mill all night, Fatigued, hara.s.sed? Thy feet, unshod, are chapped And full of cracks. Thy head can never feel The solace of uncovering, and thou, All broken with fatigue, must go to sleep Upon the ground, in soot and dust to lie, Just like a serpent coiled upon himself.

Thy covering is the tatters of old tents, Thy pillow is the stones upon the hearth.

All clad in rags thou hast a heavy sleep Awaking to another stupid day.

Such is the life of all you country folk.

What art thou then compared to those who live In shade of walls, who have their mosques for prayer Where questions are discussed and deeds are drawn?"

The Arab woman to the city girl Replied: "Get out! Thou'rt like a caverned owl.

And who art thou beside the Arab girls, The daughters of those tribes whose standards wave Above brave bands of hors.e.m.e.n as they speed?

Look at thy similars. The doctor ne'er Can leave their side. Without an illness known They're faded, pale, and sallow. The harsh lime Hath filled thy blood with poison. Thou art dead, Although thou seem'st alive. Thou ne'er hast seen Our n.o.ble Arabs and their feats of strength, Who to the deserts bring prosperity By their sharp swords! If thou could'st see our tribe When all the hors.e.m.e.n charge a hostile band, Armed with bright lances and with shields to break The enemy's strong blow! Those who are like To them are famed afar and glorified.

They're generous hosts and men of nature free.

Within the mosques they've built and lodgings made For _tolba_ and for guests. All those who come To visit them, bear gifts away, and give Them praises. Why should they reside in town Where everything's with price of silver bought?"

The city girl replied: "Oh, Bedouine, Thou dost forget all that thou hast to do.

Thou go'st from house to house, with artichokes And mallows, oyster-plants, and such, Thy garments soaked all through and through with grease.

This is thy daily life. I do not speak Of what is hid from view. Thy slanders cease!

What canst thou say of me? Better than thee I follow all the precepts of the Sonna And note more faithfully the sacred hours.

Hid by my veil no eye hath seen my face: I'm not like thee, forever in the field.

I've streets to go on when I walk abroad.

What art thou, then, beside me? I heard not The cows and follow them about all day.

Thou eatest sorrel wild and heart of dwarf Palm-tree. Thy feet are tired with walking far, And thy rough hands with digging in the earth."

"Now what impels you, and what leads you on,"

The country girl of city girl inquired, "To outrage us like this and say such words Against us, you who are the very worst Of creatures, in whom all the vices are a.s.sembled? You are wicked sinners all, And Satan would not dare to tell your deeds.

You are all witches. And you would betray Your brother, not to speak of husbands. You Walk all unguarded in the street alone, Against your husband's will. And you deny Your holy faith. The curse of heav'n will weigh Upon you when you go to meet your G.o.d.

Not one of you is honest. O ye blind Who do not wish to see, whence comes your blindness?

You violate the law divine, and few Among you fear the Lord. 'Tis in the country, Amid the fields, that women worship G.o.d.

Why say'st thou that the city women sole Are pious? Canst thou say my prayers for me?"

"What pleasure have the country girls?" replied The city girl. "They've no amus.e.m.e.nts there.

There's nothing to divert the eyes. Their hands They do not stain with henna, setting off A rounded arm. Rich costumes they wear not, Which cost some hundred silver pieces each, Nor numerous garments decked with precious stones.

They are not coifed with kerchiefs of foulard With flowers brocaded. Neither have they veils Nor handkerchiefs of silk and broidered gold.

They never have a negress nurse to bring Their children up and run on services Throughout the house. And yet they boast as loud As any braggart. Why bring'st thou the charge That I a blameful life do lead, whilst thine Deserves reproof? Dirt in the country holds Supreme control. The water's scarce enough To drink, with none left for the bath. The ground Serves you as bed, and millet is your food, Or rotten wheat and barley."

Then took up The word, and spoke the Arab woman dark: "Who are thy ancestors? Which is thy tribe Among all those that fill the mighty world?

You're only Beny Leqyt, and the sc.u.m Of people of all sorts. Thou call'st thyself A city woman. What are city men?

Thy lords don't slander folk. 'Tis only those Who come whence no one knows who have so rude A tongue. Thou wouldst insult me, thou, of stock Like thine, with such a name abroad! And thou Wouldst taunt a Qorechyte, a Hachemite Of glorious ancestors who earned their fame.

Tis proper for a woman born of such A stock ill.u.s.trious to vaunt herself Upon her origin. But thou, a vile Descendant of a conquered race!

"Thou call'st Thyself a Sunnite, yet thou knowest not The three great things their Author gave to us: (He knows all secrets.) First is Paradise, Then the Koran, and then our Prophet great, Destroyer of false faiths and for all men The interceder. Whosoe'er loves him Doth love the Arabs, too, and cleaves to them.

And whosoe'er hates them hates, too, in truth, The chosen one of G.o.d. Thou hatest him, For thou revil'st my ancestors, and seek'st To lower their rank and vilify their fame.

Think on thine evil deeds, against the day When in thy grave thou'lt lie, and that one, too, When thou shalt rise again, insulter of The Arabs, king of peoples on the earth."

"The Arabs I do not at all despise,"

The city woman said, "nor yet decry Their honor, and 'tis only on account Of thee I spoke against them. But 'tis thou Who hast insulted all my family, and placed Thy race above. He who begins is e'er At fault, and not the one who follows. Thou The quarrel didst commence. Pray G.o.d, our Lord, To pardon me, as I will pray him, too, And I the Arabs will no more attack.

If they offend me I will pardon them And like them for our holy prophet's sake.

I shall awake in Paradise some day.

From them 'tis given, far beyond all price.

Frankly, I love them more than I do love Myself. I love them from my very heart.

He who a people loveth shall arise With them. And here's an end to all our words Of bickering and mutual abuse."

I told them that it was my duty plain To reconcile them. I accorded both Of them most pure intentions. Then I sent Them home, and made agreeable the way.

Their cares I drove away with honeyed words.

I have composed the verses of this piece, With sense more delicate than rare perfume Of orange-flower or than sugar sweet, For those kind hearts who know how to forgive.

As for the evil-minded, they should feel The _zeqqoum_. With the flowers of rhetoric My song is ornamented: like the breast Of some fair virgin all bedecked with stones Which shine like bright stars in the firmament.

Some of its words will seem severe to those Who criticise. I culled them like unto A nosegay in the garden of allusions.

May men of lion hearts and spirit keen-- Beloved by G.o.d and objects of his care-- Receive my salutations while they live, My countless salutations.

I should let My name be known to him who's subject to The Cherfa and obeys their mighty power.

The _mym_ precedes, then comes the written _ha_.

The _mym_ and _dal_ complete the round and make It comprehensible to him who reads Mahomet. May G.o.d pardon me this work So frivolous, and also all my faults And errors. I place confidence in him, Creator of all men, with pardon free For all our sins, and in his mercy trust, Because he giveth it to him who seeks.

The country girl and city girl appeared Before the judge, demanding sentence just.

In fierce invectives for a while they joined, But after all I left them reconciled.

POPULAR TALES OF THE BERBERS

[_Translated by Rene Ba.s.set and Chauncey C. Starkweather_]

STORIES OF ANIMALS

THE TURTLE, THE FROG, AND THE SERPENT

Once upon a time the turtle married a frog. One day they quarrelled. The frog escaped and withdrew into a hole. The turtle was troubled and stood in front of his door very much worried. In those days the animals spoke. The griffin came by that way and said: "What is the matter with you? You look worried this morning."

"Nothing ails me," answered the turtle, "except that the frog has left me."

The griffin replied, "I'll bring him back."

"You will do me a great favor."

The griffin took up his journey and arrived at the hole of the frog. He scratched at the door.

The frog heard him and asked, "Who dares to rap at the door of a king's daughter?"

"It is I, the griffin, son of a griffin, who lets no carrion escape him."

"Get out of here, among your corpses. I, a daughter of the King, will not go with you."

He departed immediately.