Status Updates From The Story of Layla and Majnun

You are your fate, your death, your life. Good will be joined to good, evil to evil. The echo shouts your secret from the mountain-tops, revealing only what you confided yourself.

But if you die your own death in this life, tearing yourself away from the world which is a demon on with the face of an angel, you will share eternal life.

He who remains a stranger in this world and wanders, restless as the moon at night, will find peace. Man is as lightning, born to die, not to seek permanence in the house of suffering. Do not settle down to rest here, where everything perishes; you will only regret it later.

The old man had spoken the truth. He reached home, but soon afterwards his strength failed, and his soul unfolded its wings. For two days it hovered, then, breaking its fetters, the heavenly bird took flight and found its resting-place at the throne of Truth, while the earth received what belonged to her.

I feel as if I had already been taken out of myself. Are we not both late? Is not our caravan on its way? Farewell, Farewell; never in this world shall we meet again."

Hold me fast. This hour will have to nourish me on my way; it must last for a long time. I too have tied my bundle in this world. Don't you feel that I am not so far from your own? I fade away, and your sufferings become mine. Never again will I set eyes on you. Farewell. The boat which is waiting for me will not return. Farewell! Where I am going, men wait for the resurrection. Farewell!

'O you, my dearest', replied the Sayyid, taking Majnun in his arms, 'you consume yourself in your grief, feeding on your own liver. You are my yoke, but also my crown... Let me then take leave of us both, of you and of myself. Look, our tears mingle and flow together; they will cleanse me, and in the cradle which is being prepared for my journey I shall have wonderful dreams.

My memory is blank, the gale has blown away all I possessed.... I am no longer the man I was, my father! If you ask me what happened, I cannot tell you, I don't remember. I know that you are my father and that I am your child. But I have even forgotten your name, I don't remember.'
I am lost in my own wilderness! I am drawn towards death—death is within me. If only you could forget that you ever had a son !

"You are my soul's life-giving breath. I am the obedient slave of your counsels, which enlighten my being, unravelling all knots. I have done everything to obey you, and know that I should follow your advice. Yet I cannot, my father! It is my fault! You strike your coins with the die of wisdom, mine is the die of love; it cannot be changed!

Oh my son! Be my companion for the few days which still remain: for me, night is falling. If today you turn away, tomorrow you will look for me in vain. I have to go and you must take over my task. Soon my sufferings will be ended, but you should be happy! Look, my sun is sinking, darkened by the haze of a long day. Dusk is waiting for me, my son—my soul is taking wing. Come then, come! Do not delay.

What use then regret? Nothing counts but what you have achieved. A woman wears only what she has woven; a man reaps only what he has sown. If you hope one day to win renown, begin today. Behave as if your life were in the hands of Death even now then, when he comes, you will not have to worry. Only those who die their own death can hope to escape his claws.

Why not? That is life; whether its promises are true or false, enjoy what the moment brings. What is of lasting value in this world? Enjoy what you have today; and eat what you have harvested now! Never trust tomorrow. Your day is today. How do we know? Tomorrow death may hold the reins?

'Enough! Learn to accept this world as it is. Stop living in the wilderness like a beast among beasts; do not hide in mountain caves, a versifying demon, a leech sucking its own blood! Try to be patient, think of something else, even of trifling pleasures. Tempt yourself, be gay and happy, joke and dally; anything—be it as fleeting as a breath of wind.

What use is all this agony? Whom does it help? Do you want to be the bed of a stream whose banks are burst by the floods? A mountain, split by an earth tremor? You must overcome your grief, otherwise it will devour you even if you be of iron. You have been a rebel all this time.

Believe me, you can run all your life without arriving anywhere. You will only get more tired, more weary.

'Soul of your father', said the old man. 'What place is this where to rest your head? Is this where you are hiding? Do you want to wait here for the arrow of a cruel fate, to be devoured by wild beasts when you have have died? I implore you, escape while there is time! Truly, with us a stray dog has a better life than you.

When Majnun heard this voice, he suddenly recognized his father. Putting his head on the old man's knee, he sobbed uncontrollably, then they fell into each other's arms, weeping and kissing, again and again; for a long time they stayed holding each other in close embrace.

'Who are you? What do you want with me? Where do do you come from?'
The old man replied: 'I have been looking for you all the time."

Then only did Majnun lift his eyes. He looked at his fathe—yet did not see him. Who was this? Someone weeping! Weeping for whom? Majnun stared into his father's face without recognizing him. He had forgotten himself. How then could he remember anyone else?

When the old Sayyid set eyes on his son, he fell on his knees, overwhelmed by love and sorrow. He laid his hand on the unhappy boy's head; tenderly he caressed his hair and his forehead, while tears, like rain, streamed down his cheeks.

Majnun? I know where he is! A terrible spot, a place of anguish, a cave in the desert like a tomb, right in the flames of Hell.... Don't go there!"
But the old man insisted and, after a last day's journey, reached his goal. His goal? One would not wish anybody to find himself in a place so deserted, so bleak and harrowing that it made the heart quail—there he found his son.

He traversed vast plains, scorched by the heat of the sun, he crossed lonely mountain passes beneath towering peaks; his feet sank into oceans of sand, he rested in the green island shade of many an oasis and hopefully asked every passing stranger for news of his lost son. For a long time his search was fruitless, At last, when his feet would carry him no longer, a Bedouin said to him:

There was only one tie still binding him to this earth.He was not afraid of death,but he did not want to leave without setting eyes on his child for the last time.Earthly possessions meant little to him, but to leave them to a stranger instead of his son pained him.He was determined to seek out Majnun,to talk to him once more,and perhaps—who knows?rescue his soul from its obsession, to tear his heart from the desert.

For days and nights he sat in a corner of his tent, waiting for the sign of departure to his last resting-place. He knew only too well that it could not be long delayed and that the signposts erected for him were 'Old Age', 'Weakness' and 'Sorrow'.

It is a long time since we have spoken of Majnun's father, the old Sayyid.
Had he not done everything that a father could do for his son? In his grief he was like Jacob after Joseph had been taken from him; but Jacob had other sons; not so the Sayyid.

Bitter is the wine of lonely love, yet, if sometimes in his grief Majnun doubted Layla, his own passion did not abate. So he went singing:

You torture me to death, yet while I live
Your beauty makes me love you and forgive,
I am the lamp, you are the sun your might
Conquers triumphantly my waning light.
Your radiant eyes the fire envies you,
Tulips and roses fade when meeting you.

Layla has not deceived nor betrayed you, nor has she forgotten you. Broken-hearted, her face veiled, she suffers behind the curtain of her tent—longing for you.
She has no one else in this world, and not a moment passes when she does not think of you a hundred times. What is a year, after all? If a hundred, even a thousand, years separated you it is inconceivable that Layla would ever forget Majnun.

Listen to me', he clamoured, 'listen; what I just told you was a lie, a wicked lie. A bad joke it was, nothing more. I have turned the truth inside out.

The rider watched, Whether man or demon—he was seized by pity. Ashamed and no longer proud of the magic power of his words, he jumped from the saddle and waited near the thorn-bush until the lover's soul returned to his wretched body. Then he broke into a thousand pleas for forgiveness.