Al-Farazdaq (d. ca. 110/728), one of the greatest poets of the Umayyad period, here figures as a storyteller, relating in prose his adventure with some bathing girls, an encounter which reminded him of a similar story (but erotic rather than burlesque) connected with the most famous poem in Arabic, the Mu‘allaqah by the pre-Islamic Imru’ al-Qays (first half of sixth century AD). Several verses from the poem may be found in the passages from Abū l-‘Alā’ al-Ma‘arrī’s Risālat al-ghufrān, below. For Abū l-Faraj al-Iṣfahānī and his Book of Songs, from which this and the following story have been taken, see the introduction to the “Umayyad Ghazal Poem, used as an Abbasid song text,” above, p. 27.
‘Abd Allāh ibn Mālik related to us: Muḥammad ibn Mūsā related to me: al-Qaḥdhamī related to me: one of our friends related to me, on the authority of ‘Abd Allāh ibn Zālān377 al-Tamīmī, the rāwī378 of al-Farazdaq, that al-Farazdaq said:
One night a heavy rain fell in Basra. The following morning I found some tracks of riding animals that had set out toward the desert. I thought that they must have been left by people who have gone on an outing. They’re sure, I thought, to have some food and drink with them! So I followed their traces, until I came upon some mules, still fully laden, stationed near a pond. I hastened to the pond, where I saw some women bathing in the water. I said, “I have never seen anything like today, not even the day of Dārat Juljul.”379
I turned away from them, modestly, but they called out to me: “Hey you, you with the mule, come back, we want to ask you something!”
So I turned back, while they were still up to their necks in the water.
“Come on,” they said, “you must tell us the story of Dārat Juljul!”
So I said, “Imru’ al-Qays was in love with one of his cousins, called ‘Unayzah.380 He tried to get in touch with her for some time, but in vain. He tried to visit her without her family knowing about it, but it was not to be, until the day at the pond, that is the day of Dārat Juljul. As it happened, the clan had moved on, the men in front, and the women following behind with the servants and the luggage. When Imru’ al-Qays saw this, he lagged behind after he had traveled with his tribesmen, for a distance of a bowshot. Then he hid in a hollow, until the women came by. The girls turned up; ‘Unayzah was among them. When they arrived at the pond, they said, ‘Why don’t we stop here and rest a bit!’ So they got down from their camels, told the slaves to move away some distance and then stripped and plunged into the pond, just as you are doing now! Then Imru’ al-Qays sneaked upon them, just as I approached you, unawares. He took their clothes and made a pile of them…”
(At this point al-Farazdaq jumped off his mule, grabbed some of the clothes and clutched them to his chest.)
“… and said to them, just as I say to you: ‘By God, I shall not give any of you girls your clothes, even if you stay in the pond all day, until you come out naked.’”
Al-Farazdaq continued, “One of them, the sauciest, said, ‘That man was in love with his cousin; are you in love with one of us then?’
“‘No, by God! I am not in love with any of you, but I do find you attractive.’
“Then they shouted and clapped their hands, and said, ‘Go on with your story, since you won’t leave before you’ve got what you want!’”
So al-Farazdaq continued the story of Imru’ al-Qays:
“They resisted his request until the sun was high in the sky. Then they became afraid that they would not reach the camp site they intended to reach. So one of them came out, and he placed her clothes to one side. She took them and put them on. Then, one by one, the others followed, until only ‘Unayzah was left. She implored him by God to throw her her clothes, but he said, ‘Shut up, for I swear a holy oath that you’ll have to come and get your clothes yourself!’
“So she came out and he had a good look at her, front and back. Then he put down her clothes and she picked them up. Then they all turned on him, blaming and rebuking him: ‘You have seen us naked, you have kept us here all whole time, and you have made us hungry!’
“‘What if I slaughter my camel for you, will you eat it?’
‘Yes.’
“So he drew his sword, hamstrung his camel, cut its throat, and skinned it. He called for the servants, to collect firewood, and he lit a big fire. Then he began slicing it for them, pieces of hump, the delicacies and the liver, and threw them on the embers. The girls ate and he joined them. He drank from a small wineskin that he carried with him, and sang to them, throwing some pieces of meat to the slaves and the servants, until the girls had eaten their fill and had had lots of fun. When he wanted to move on, one of them said, ‘I’ll carry the saddle cushion!’
“Another said, ‘I’ll carry the saddle.’
“Another, ‘And I’ll carry the saddle pad and the girth straps.’
“In this way they divided his camel’s equipment between them. Only ‘Unayzah had not been given anything to carry. Imru’ al-Qays said, ‘Noble lady, you must carry me with you on your camel, for walking is beneath me, it is not my custom!’
“So she carried him on the withers of her camel. He would put his head into her howdah and give her a kiss. But when she resisted, the howdah tilted, at which she said, ‘Imru’ al-Qays, you’ve hocked my camel, get off!’
“That is in fact what he says in his verse:
She says, when the howdah tilted with us both, together,
‘You’ve hocked my camel, Imru’ al-Qays, get off!’”
When al-Farazdaq had finished his story, the saucy girl said, “Well, well, that was a damn good story, very nice indeed! Who are you, mister?”
I said, “From Muḍar.”
“Which tribe?”
“Tamīm.”
“Which clan?”
“I won’t say another word!”
“I bet you are al-Farazdaq!”
I said, “Al-Farazdaq is a poet, I am only a transmitter.”
“Enough of this mystification about your lineage! I’m asking you seriously: are you him?”
“Yes, indeed, I am.”
“If you are he, then I think you won’t part with our clothes unless you’ve had your way.”
“That’s right.”
“Turn away for a second!”
She whispered something that I could not understand to her young friends. They dived in the water and hid. Then they showed their heads and came out, their hands filled with mud. They approached me, menacingly. They smeared my face with mud and slime, filling my eyes and covering my clothes. I fell on my face and while I was distracted by the dirt in my eyes they grabbed their clothes and absconded with them. The saucy one sat on my mule and left me flat on my face, in the worst possible state, covered in shame: “That bloke thought he could fuck us!”
I left but not before I had washed my face and clothes and dried them. I returned home on foot as darkness was falling. They had returned my mule and left a message: “Tell him: Your sisters say to you: ‘You tried to get something from us that we would not give, but we hereby give you back your wife; now fuck her all night! Here are a few pennies for the public bath in the morning!’”
Whenever he told this story, he would say, “I have never again met their like.”