Layla and Majnun Read Online Free Page A

mourner in the land of pain.
    Eventually, Majnun felt that he could tolerate the company of others no longer. And so he left his parents, his relatives and his friends and ran away, deep into the desert, not knowing where he would go or what he would do. Crying, ‘There is no power except for the power of God’, he stumbled through the alleyways and past the market stalls, desiring only to put himself at the mercy of his Lord and the desert wastes.
    For Majnun, good and bad were no longer distinguishable; for him, what was right and what was wrong could no longer be known. He was a lover, and love knows no laws. And so he ran, tears streaming from his eyes, the cry of ‘Layla, Layla!’ on his lips. He paid no attention to the stares and pointing fingers of the people as he ran; indeed, he neither saw them nor heard their shouts and their reproaches. Gradually people began to follow him, fascinated and magnetised by his bizarre appearance and even stranger behaviour, although in his trance-like state he paid them no mind. Yet, when he began to recite his poetry and sing his verses of love, their purely prurient interest in Majnun as a spectacle waned, and they began to sympathise with him. The fire in his heart had touched theirs, too, and as the haunting sonnets and beautiful odes tripped off his tongue, the hearts of his listeners trembled and many of them began to cry with him.
    Yet Majnun noticed none of this; he was not even aware that he was being followed. He was not even aware of himself: it was as though he had ceased to exist, as though his name had been erased from the book of Creation, causing him to be forgotten. His heart was crushed, his flame of life had all but gone out, the bird of his soul had lost its will to live and now lay, fluttering helplessly in the dust, waiting for death to overtake it.
    In the end, he felt all of the strength pour out of his limbs and he fell to his knees, as though at prayer. With parched lips he cried out, ‘For God’s sake, who can cure me of this sickness? I am an exile, an orphan, anoutcast. Where is my home? Where are my friends, my family? I am cut off from them completely and they have no road to me, either. And I am separated from the one I love. My name is dirt and my reputation is ruined, like a crystal goblet smashed upon the rock of Fate. My world was once filled with the music of happiness; now all that I hear is the solemn drumbeat of separation.
    ‘Layla, my love, my dearest heart! I am your slave, your victim: I am the hunter captured by the game! My soul cannot help but follow the mistress who owns it. If she says, “Drink the wine of love and become intoxicated!”, then I must obey; if she says, “Become mad with desire!”, who am I to argue? There is no way that a madman such as Majnun can be tamed, so do not try. What hope can there be for a heart as crushed as mine? My only hope is that the earth will open up and swallow me whole, or that a lightning bolt will flash through the heavens and strike me dead! Is there no one who will hand me over to the angel of death? Is there no one who will save me from myself, and thus save the rest of the world from my madness? For I am truly mad; I am a misfit, a lunatic, a demon in human guise! I am an embarrassment to my family and a thorn in the flesh of my tribe: the very mention of my name causes all who know me to hang their heads in shame. Anyone may shed my blood: I declare it lawful for them. For I am an outlaw, and whoever kills me will not be guilty of murder.
    ‘So goodbye, dear friends, for I must depart. May God bless and keep you, and may you forgive me. There is nothing you can do for me now: the goblet hasfallen from my hands and the wine is spilled. Of my happiness, and my sanity, only the razor-sharp shards are left; see how they cut into me and through me.’
    The people surrounding him looked on in disbelief as he spoke, wondering whether he was aware of their presence at all. Then, as if to