Layla and Majnun by Nizami Page B

should I not embrace death willingly? Come, save yourself from me, and me from myself, and let me rest at your feet in eternal peace and everlasting tranquillity!’
    There was nothing more he could say. With a heartrending cry he shot up from the ground like an arrow, his face contorted with rage. Like a man possessed by demons he grasped his chains with both hands and, strengthened by some unknown force, tore them from his limbs and tossed them into the sand. Then he ran. He ran away from the old woman, from Layla’s tent, from the oasis, from all human beings, and headed for the mountainous desert wastes of Najd.
    One by one his friends and relatives were told: all were saddened by the news, but few of them were surprised. Majnun’s behaviour had been worrying them for some time, but what could they have done? A meeting was held and a party of Majnun’s relatives was sent off to search for him. When eventually they found him, high up in one of his most isolated retreats, they realised that the only thing he remembered was Layla and his love for her; the rest of his past was erased. As soon as they tried to jog his memory by mentioning thenames of friends and relatives, people and places he had known, he would fall silent or close his eyes, as though he was too exhausted to think. All attempts to get through to him, to make him see sense, failed miserably; in the end, his relatives gave up and headed back to the town. Others tried to reach him, but with little success, and in the end even his father and mother had to abandon hope that he would ever return.

Chapter 26
    I t was her father who told Layla of Nowfal’s victory. He came running into her tent, his robes spattered with blood, his turban askew. He was exhausted, of course, yet strangely enough there was triumph in his voice. Layla tended to his cuts and bruises while he told her what had happened.
    The old man slapped his thigh and said proudly, ‘What a coup! What a stroke of genius! I have done the impossible: I have tamed this wild creature Nowfal with my tongue; within minutes of the defeat he inflicted upon us, I showed him who the real victor is! And now I have escaped disaster, and all by a hair’s breadth!
    ‘As for that maniac, that crazed demon Majnun — if he had forced his way in, as indeed he was trying todo, he would have ruined everything. Never mind. Although Nowfal has won fairly and squarely — and why not, since he fought sincerely in the name of God — thanks to my diplomacy, he has withdrawn and we are saved.’
    Layla listened, smiling and nodding in all the right places, but her heart was breaking. She felt that she would die of grief before long, but of course she could not reveal her feelings.
    Day in and day out she suffered in silence, feigning smiles and laughter and responding as expected when she was spoken to, but as soon as night fell she would take to her bed and cry, safe from prying eyes, until there were no tears left to shed.
    Her parents’ home had become her prison; no, it had become her tomb, for was she not as good as dead? She guarded the secret of her love as jealously as a serpent guards treasure, but secrecy had its price. The fact that there was no one in whom she could confide made her feel like a bird in a trap: she was tired of her suffering and longed for release, even if that release meant certain death.
    And while she suffered in silence, she waited, listening to the murmurs of the wind, hoping that it would bring her a message from her beloved.
    Meanwhile, Majnun’s sonnets and odes extolling Layla and her unparalleled beauty had spread throughout the land; so famous had his poetry made her that before long, suitors were flocking from all corners of the land to ask for her hand. Some offered orchards and sheep, others gold and silver. Intoxicated by thevery sight of her, they resorted to every trick and stratagem they could in order to reach their goal. Yet, however skilled they were in the fine arts