The maverick Abū l-‘Alā’ (d. 449/1057) has already appeared as poet, above. His prose works are no less remarkable than his verse. In his Risālat alGhufrān (The Epistle of Forgiveness) he mockingly imagines how a contemporary of his, the philologist Ibn al-Qāriḥ, has entered (not without difficulty) Heaven. There he converses with colleagues and poets, and during an excursion to Hell he meets further poets and heretics from the past. The story satirizes not only the protagonist but apparently also some popular conceptions of the Hereafter (as well as what seems to be medieval bureaucracy). It is set in the imagined future and therefore told in the present tense in Arabic. Many of the discussions are on technical matters of linguistics and philology; some more accessible passages have been translated here. The text uses saj‘ occasionally, which has been imitated in the translation. At the beginning of the first passage, Ibn al-Qāriḥ is at the entrance of Paradise, on the Last Day; he is telling some fellow human how he arrived at that place.
Then the shaykh says (may God make him speak meritoriously when he says something, if his Lord will him to say something):
I’ll tell you my own story. After I got up and rose from my grave and had arrived at the Plane of Resurrection (“plane” being like “plain,” with a different spelling),733 I thought of the Qur’anic verse, ≪To Him the angels and the Spirit ascend in a day the length of which is fifty thousand years. So be patient in a decent manner.≫734 It did seem a long time to me; I got parched and torrid (meaning “very hot, with not a puff of wind”), as your friend al-Numayrī says:735
The girls, in their wraps, are like ostrich eggs
exposed by drizzle and the heat of a sultry night.
I am easily desiccated (that is, “quick to thirst”), so I thought about my situation, which I found quite unbearable. There came an angel to me, the one that had recorded all the good deeds I had performed. I found that my good deeds were as few as tussocks of grass in a destitute year (a tussock being a tuft of vegetation, destitute being a drought). But my repentance at the end shone like a light, bright like a lamp for travelers at night.
When I had stood there for one or two months, fearing I would drown in my sweat, I persuaded myself that I should compose a few lines for Riḍwān, Paradise’s Porter Angel. I made them on the meter and rhyme pattern of
Stop, you two, for the memory of a beloved, and the recognition…736
In them I incorporated the name of Riḍwān. Then I jostled my way through the people until I stood where he could hear and see me, but I don’t think he noticed what I said. I waited for a short while, perhaps ten days in earthly reckoning, and then I made some lines on the pattern of
The gathered clans have parted. If I’d had my way,
they wouldn’t have. They severed bonds of loving union.737
Again I mentioned Riḍwān in it; I approached him and did as before. But he did not appear to hear: it was as if I tried to move Mount Thabīr,738 or attempted to extract scent from cement (“cement” being a mixture of limestone and clay). Then I continued with all other metrical patterns that could accommodate “Riḍwān” until I had exhausted them. Still he did not help me and I don’t think he even understood what I said. When I had tried everything without success I cried out as loud as I could, “Riḍwān, who are trusted by the Omnipotent Almighty, charged with guarding Paradise! Can’t you hear me calling on you for help?”
He replied, “I heard you mention Riḍwān, but I had no idea that you meant me. What do you want, poor wretch?”
“I am a man who cannot endure to be dehydrated (that is thirsty); it is for the Reckoning that I have waited and waited. I’ve got my Document of Repentance, which cancels all my sins. I have made numerous poems in praise of you, mentioning you by name!”
Riḍwān asked, “Poems, what’s that? This is the first time I have heard that word.”
“Poems,” I replied, “is the plural of ‘poem,’ which is speech that is metrical and, on certain conditions, sounds pleasant. If the meter is defective, either by an excess or a shortfall, one notices it. People in the temporal world used to ingratiate themselves with kings and lords by means of poems. So I made some for you, hoping you might let me enter Paradise by this gate. I think people have waited long enough now. I am only a weak, feeble person. Surely I am someone who may hope for forgiveness, and rightly so, if God the Exalted wills.”
But Riḍwān said, “Do you expect me to allow you to enter without permission from the Lord of Glory, you dimwit? Forget it! Forget it! ≪How could they attain it from a remote place?≫”739
So I left him and, expectantly, turned to a guard who was called Zufar. For him I made a poem, mentioning him by name, on the meter of Labīd’s line:
My two daughters hope their father will live;
but don’t I belong to Rabī‘ah or Muḍar?740
I approached him and recited the poem; but it was as if I was speaking to a mute and solid rock in the end, trying to get a wild ibex to descend.741 I made poems using the name Zufar in every possible meter and rhyme, but to no avail each time. I said, “God have mercy on you! In the past world we would seek the favor of leaders and kings with two or three lines of verse and our wishes would be fulfilled; but for you I have composed enough to fill a tome of collected poems and still you don’t seem to have heard one susurrus, i.e. a whisper!”
He replied, “I have no idea what you are expostulating (i.e., talking about). I suppose all that jabbering of yours is the Qur’an of the Devil, that rebel! But the angels won’t buy it! It belongs to the jinn, who taught it to Adam’s children. Now what do you want?”
I explained what I wanted. He said, “By God, I can’t help you in what you need; for humans I cannot intercede. What community are you from?”
“The community of Muḥammad ibn ‘Abd Allāh ibn ‘Abd al-Muṭṭalib.”
“Ah, yes, the prophet of the Arabs. So that is why you have come to me with that poetry, because the accursed Devil spat it out in the lands of the Arabs, where women and children learned it. I’ll give you some good advice: look for your friend and perhaps he will be able to let you have your way.”
Thus I despaired of him. I worked my way through the multitude. Then I saw a man bathed in a glimmering of light, surrounded by others who shone with bright lights. I asked, “Who is that man?”
They said, “That is Ḥamzah ibn ‘Abd al-Muṭṭalib, the one who was killed by Waḥshī; those around him are those Muslims who died as martyrs at Uḥud.”742
Inspired with false hope I said to myself: poetry will work better with them than with the Porter of Paradise, because Ḥamzah is a poet, as were his brothers and his father and his grandfather. It could well be that each and every one of his forefathers from Ma‘add ibn ‘Adnān on have composed verses. So I composed some lines after the model of Ka‘b ibn Mālik’s elegy743 on Ḥamzah, which opens with
Ṣafiyyah, get up, don’t be weak!
Let the women weep for Ḥamzah!
I approached him and called out: “Lord of martyrs, uncle of God’s messenger, God bless him! Son of ‘Abd al-Muṭṭalib!”
When he turned to me I recited the verses. But he said, “Shame upon you! Must you eulogize me here, of all places? Haven’t you heard this Qur’anic verse:744 ≪Every man of them that day will have enough to preoccupy him≫”?
“Yes, I’ve heard it; and I’ve also heard what follows: ≪Some faces that day will be bright, laughing and expecting delight; other faces that day will be glum, by gloom overcome: these are the unbelievers, the sinners≫!”745
He replied, “I can’t do what you ask, but I will send a nuncio (meaning a messenger) along with you to my nephew ‘Alī ibn Abī Ṭālib, who can speak to the Prophet, God bless him and give him peace, on your behalf.”
[The Conversation with ‘Alī ibn Abī Ṭālib]
He sent a man with me. When he had told my story to the Commander of the Believers,746 the latter asked, “Where is your evidence?”
He meant the document with my good deeds.747
[Ibn al-Qāriḥ explains that, distracted by a discussion with the tenth-century grammarian Abū ‘Alī al-Fārisī, he had lost this document. He continues:]
I went back to look for it but could not find it!
I displayed much confusion and distress. But the Commander of the Believers said, “Don’t worry. Did anybody witness your repentance?”748
“Yes, I replied, the qadi of Aleppo and his notaries.”
“What’s his name?”
“‘Abd al-Mun‘im ibn ‘Abd al-Karīm, the qadi of Aleppo (may God guard it) in the days of Shibl al-Dawlah.”749
He got a crier to stand up and call out: “‘Abd al-Mun‘im ibn ‘Abd al-Karīm, qadi of Aleppo in Shibl al-Dawlah’s time! Have you any knowledge of the repentance of ‘Alī ibn Manṣūr ibn Ṭālib (ibn al-Qāriḥ), the Aleppine man of letters?”
But no one answered. I was dismayed and began to tremulate (i.e., to tremble). The man cried out a second time, and again nobody answered. I was prostrated (i.e., I fell down in a swoon). Then he cried a third time, and someone spoke up: “Yes, I have witnessed the repentance of ‘Alī ibn Manṣūr, in the nick of time!750 And a number of notaries were present at my place when he repented. I was then the qadi of Aleppo and adjacent districts. It is God whom we ask for succor!”
At that I got up and was able to breathe again. I told the Commander of the Believers (peace be upon him) what I wanted, but he turned away, saying, “You want something impossible. Follow the example of the other children of your forefather Adam!”
[The Conversation with Fāṭimah, the Prophet’s Daughter]
I wanted to get to the Basin751 but had real difficulty getting there. I drank a few gulps after which there would never be any thirst. The unbelievers also tried to reach the water, but the Angels of Hell drove them away with sticks that burned like fire, so that they retreated, with scorched faces or hands, wailing and squealing. I walked to the Chosen Progeny752 and said, “In the past world I always wrote at the end of any book of mine: ‘God bless our lord Muḥammad, the Seal of Prophets, and his excellent and good descendants,’753 to show my respect and hoping for a favor.”
They said, “What can we do for you?”
I replied, “Our lady Fāṭimah754 (peace be upon her) entered Paradise ages ago. But from time to time she leaves it for twenty-four hours, of the reckoning of the transitory world, to greet her father who is busy testifying for God’s judgment. Then she returns to her place in Paradise. Now when she appears as usual, please could you all ask her on my behalf? Perhaps she will ask her father to help me.”
When the time had come for her to emerge a crier called out: “Lower your eyes, people that stand here, until Fāṭimah, the daughter of Muḥammad (God bless and preserve him) has passed!”
A large number of men and women of Abū Ṭālib’s family755 gathered, people who had never drunk wine or done evil things, and they came to meet her on her way. When she saw them she asked, “What is this crowd? Is anything the matter?”
They answered, “We are fine; we enjoy the presents from those that dwell in Paradise. But we are being kept here because of the ≪word that preceded≫;756 we do not want to enter Paradise precipitously, before our time. We are safe and having a good time, on account of God’s word:757 ≪Those who have already been given the finest thing that came from Us, they shall be kept far from it, nor shall they hear any sound of it but they shall forever be in what their souls desire, the greatest distress shall not grieve them and the angels shall receive them: this is your day, that you have been promised!≫”
‘Alī ibn al-Ḥusayn and his two sons, Muḥammad and Zayd, were among them,758 with other pious and righteous persons. Next to Fāṭimah (peace be upon her) stood another woman, who resembled her in nobility and majesty. People asked, “Who is she?”
The answer was: “That is Khadījah,759 daughter of Khuwaylid ibn Asad ibn ‘Abd al-‘Uzzā.”
With her were some young men, riding horses of light. People asked, “Who are they?”
They were told: “They are ‘Abd Allāh, al-Qāsim, alṬayyib, alṬāhir, and Ibrāhīm, the sons of Muḥammad (God bless him and give him peace).”760
Then those whom I had asked said, “This man is one of our followers. His repentance is genuine and there can be no doubt that he will be among those in Paradise. He turns to you in supplication, God bless you, that he may be relieved from the terrors of this Place of Judgment, that he may enter Paradise and hasten to attain the triumph.”
Thereupon Fāṭimah said to her brother Ibrāhīm (God bless him), “You look after this man!”
He said to me, “Hold on to my stirrup.”
The horses then passed through the throng, whole nations and peoples making way for us. Where the crowd was too dense they flew up in the air, while I was holding on to the stirrup. They halted at Muḥammad (God bless him and give him peace).
The Prophet asked, “Who is this alien? (meaning ‘stranger’).”
Fāṭimah replied, “This is a man for whom So-and-so and So-and-so have interceded.”
She named some of the Pure Imams.761 He said, “First one must look at his works.”
He inquired about them and they were found in the Grand Register, sealed with Repentance. Then he interceded for me and I was permitted entrance. When Fāṭimah, the Resplendent (peace be upon her), returned I grabbed the stirrup of Ibrāhīm (God bless him).
[The Crossing of the Bridging Path]
Having thus left the multitudes behind me I was told, “This is the Bridging Path, now cross it!762 I noticed it was empty, not one soul on it. I braced myself to cross but I found that I could not control myself. Fāṭimah, the Resplendent (God bless her) said to a servant-girl of hers, ‘Girl, help him cross!’”
The girl began to push and pull me while I was tottering to the right and the left. I said, “Girl, if you want me to arrive safely, then do with me as the poet put it in the temporary world:”
Madam, if I’m tiring you,
then let me ride you piggyback.
“Piggyback, what is that?”
“That is when you put your hands on someone’s shoulders, who holds your hands and carries you, belly-to-back. Haven’t you heard the line by al-Jaḥjalūl from Kafr Ṭāb,763 when he says,”
My state improved backward
until I began to move piggybackward.764
She replied, “I’ve never heard of piggyback, or al-Jaḥjalūl, or Kafr Ṭāb before!”
She picked me up and crossed like a bolt of lightning. When I reached the other side Fāṭimah the Resplendent (peace be upon her) said, “I am giving you this girl. Take her and she will serve you in Paradise.”
[Second Conversation with Riḍwān; the Entry into Paradise]
When I arrived at the gate of Paradise, Riḍwān asked, “Have you got your permit?”
“No.”
“Then you can’t enter.”
I was desperate. I saw at the gate, just inside Paradise, a willow tree. I asked, “Can I have a leaf of that willow tree, so that I can go back to the Place of Judgment and get a permit, with it as proof?”
“I won’t let anything leave Paradise without permission from the Most High, sanctified and blessed be He.”
I was at my wits’ end at this new blow and said, “We belong to God and to Him we shall return! If Abū l-Murajjā, the Emir,765 had had a treasurer like you we would never have received a groat from his coffers.”
(A groat is a silver coin worth fourpence). But then Ibrāhīm (God bless him) turned around! He saw me—I had stayed behind. Now he came back and he dragged me along with him and brought me into Paradise. I had spent six months, earthly reckoning, at the Place of Judgment.
[In Paradise Ibn al-Qāriḥ meets a number of poets from the past and discusses their poetry with them.]
[The Banquet]
It occurs to the shaykh (may God buttress his fame) that he should give a banquet in Paradise, to be attended by as many poets as possible, those born in the pre-Islamic period who died as Muslims, or those born in Islam: those who consolidated the speech of the Arabs such as it is now preserved in books; in addition to some others with a measure of erudition who might be good company. He thinks it should be like a banquet of the fleeting world; after all, the Creator (sublime is His glory) is not incapable of bringing them everything needed, without effort or delay.
Thus, mills are erected at the Kawthar stream,766 which noisily grind heavenly wheat, as superior to the wheat described by the poet of the Hudhayl tribe, who said,
May I not thrive if I regale their visitor
on crusts and peelings while I have a store of wheat767
as Heaven is superior to earth. He suggests (may the Omnipotent fulfill his suggestions) that some girls with black, lustrous eyes768 come before him, to work the handmills: one millstone is made of pearl, another of gold, others from precious stones never yet seen by dwellers in the fleeting world. When he looks at the girls he praises God for His gift and is reminded of the words of the rajaz poet who describes a handmill:
For guests and neighbors I’ve prepared
Two girls, hard-working, who cooperate,
Without compassion, though they feed us.769
He smiles to them and says,
“Grind along! Sideways and contrary!”
They ask him,
“What are sideways and contrary?”
“Sideways is to the right and contrary is to the left. Haven’t you heard the words of the poet:”
In the morning, having breakfast, we are fattest,
but at dinner in the evening we are hollow-bellied.
We grind with handmills, sideways and contrary;
and if they gave us spindles we would not tire.
They say these verses were written by a prisoner-of-war to his people.
In his mind the shaykh (may God let him live long and joyously) sees millstones being turned by animals. Before him appear all kinds of buildings, containing precious stones of Paradise. Some mills are turned by camels that graze on the paradisical thornbushes, she-camels that do not bend over their calves, and various kinds of mules, cattle, and wild asses.
When he thinks enough flour has been milled for the banquet, his servants, the youths who live forever, disperse and return with yearlings, that is kids, various kinds of edible birds such as pigeon chicks, pea chicks, fat chickens of Mercy, and pullets of Eternity. Cows, sheep, and camels are driven to be slaughtered. There rises a loud camel-groaning, a goat-whickering, a sheep-bleating, and a cock-crowing, when they see the knife. Yet, God be praised, none suffers any pain: it is in earnest but like play.770 There is no god but God, who creates marvelously out of nothing, without having to think about it, and shapes it without having a model.
Now when the chunks of meat lie on the meat planks, as they say in the dialect of Ṭayyi’771 instead of “blocks,” he says (may God increase the efficacy of his intentions), “Let the cooks of Paradise come, all those who have worked in Aleppo through the ages!”
A large crowd comes forward. He orders them to take the food: a delicious treat from God, sublime is His might, in accordance with His word: 772 ≪In it is what the souls desire and the eyes delight in; you shall dwell therein forever. That is Paradise, which you have inherited as a reward for what you used to do. Therein you shall have fruits in plenty of which you may eat.≫ When the dishes arrive his servant boys, who are like ≪well-kept pearls≫,773 disperse to collect the invited guests. Not one poet from the Islamic period did they leave behind, nor any of those who straddled the pre-Islamic and the Islamic periods, nor any scholar learned in various disciplines, nor any erudite person: they fetched them all. Thus a large throng, or many people, gathered. (The word “throng” is used by a poet:774 “Throngs flock at his doors / from distress in years of famine.”)
Golden tables are erected and silver trays are put down. The dinner guests sit down. Bowls are brought; and a bowl remains with them while they eat its contents for a time as long as the lifetimes of Kuwayy and Surayy, the two “vultures” among the stars.775 When all have eaten their fill the cupbearers come with various potations and singing girls who produce sweet-sounding intonations.
[Conversation ensues about singers and poets, poems are recited and sung.]
[Beer, Marinated Peacock, and Roast Goose]
The shaykh happens to think of beer, the kind that used to be made in the deceptive world. Instantly God, in His omnipotence, lets rivers of it flow; one draught of it is nicer and more refreshing than all the delights of the perishing world from God’s creation of heaven and earth until the day that all nations are wrapped up by the Hereafter. He says to himself, “I know that God is omnipotent, but really I wanted the kind I used to see with the beer sellers in the fleeting world!”
No sooner has he said that than God gathers all beer sellers in Paradise, Iraqis, Syrians, and from other regions, preceded by the immortal youths,776 who carry baskets to the company.
The shaykh (may God preserve him for all lettered people) asks the scholars that are present, “What are these baskets called in correct Arabic?”
They are taciturn, i.e., silent. One of them says, “They are called ‘hampers’, in the singular ‘hamper’.”
One of the others says, “And which lexicographer says that?”
The shaykh replies (may his learning never fail to reach his companions), “It is mentioned by Ibn Durustawayh.”777
He happens to be present. Al-Khalīl778 asks him, “Where did you find that word?”
Ibn Durustawayh answers, “In the writings of al-Naḍr ibn Shumayl,”779
Al-Khalīl asks, “Is that correct, Naḍr? You are a reliable source in my view.”
Al-Naḍr replies, “I can’t remember precisely, but I think the fellow is quoting accurately, if God wills.”
At that moment there comes along, past the throng, i.e. the assembled people, a paradisical peacock, a veritable feast for the eye. Abū ‘Ubaydah780 would like to eat it marinated. Instantly it is like that, on a golden plate.781 When he has eaten his fill the bones reassemble and become a peacock as before. They all exclaim, “Glory to Him ≪who revives the bones after they have decayed≫! It is just as it says in the Qur’an: ≪When Ibrāhīm said, ‘My Lord, show me how Thou revivest the dead!’ He said, ‘Don’t you believe me, then?’ ‘Yes, I do,’ he said, ‘but just so that my heart be reassured.’ ‘Then,’ He said, ‘Take four birds and cut them up, then put a piece of them on each hill, then call them and they will come running toward you! Know that God is all-mighty and all-wise!’≫”
Then the shaykh (may God delight mankind with his life) asks, “What is the mode of ‘be reassured’?”
They reply, “Subjunctive, because it is dependent on the conjunction ‘so that’ in the sense of purpose.”
The shaykh asks, “Could there be another interpretation?”
[… A grammatical digression follows.]
Then a goose comes along, big like a Bactrian camel.782 One person wants it roasted, and thus it appears, on a table of emerald. As soon as he has had his fill, it returns, with God’s permission, to its former winged state. Another prefers it as kebab, someone else wants it spiced with sumac, yet another with milk and vinegar, and so on, while the goose turns into whatever is desired. This process repeats itself for some time.
Then Abū ‘Uthmān al-Māzinī783 says to ‘Abd al-Malik ibn Qurayb al-Aṣma‘ī,784 “I say, Abū Sa‘īd, what is the morphological pattern of iwazzah, ‘goose’?”
Al-Aṣma‘ī replies, “Are you insinuating something, you scorpion? You were in my class in Basra for so long when nobody paid any attention to you. The pattern of iwazzah is factually ifa‘lah (’iC1aC2C3ah) but originally if‘alah (’iC1C2aC3ah).”785
Thereupon al-Māzinī asks, “What is your proof that the glottal stop’ is secondary and not an original root consonant, the pattern then being fi‘allah (C1iC2a-C3C3ah)?” Al-Aṣma‘ī answers, “That the glottal stop is secondary is proved by the fact that people also say wazz.”
“But that does not prove that the glottal stop is secondary, for people say nās (‘people’), the original form of which is ’unās, and mīhah, for ‘sheep pox,’ which is in fact ’amīha.”
Al-Aṣma‘ī says, “Don’t you and your friends, the ‘Analogists,’786 assert that the pattern is ’if‘alah (’iC1C2aC3ah)? If they then build a noun from the root ’-W-Y (‘to seek refuge’) on the pattern of ’iwazzah, they would say ’iyyāh!787 And if the pattern were fi‘allah (C1iC2aC3C3ah), they would say ’iwayyah; if it were ’ifa‘lah (’iC1aC2C3ah), the ‘ayn having no vowel, they would say ’iyayyah, in which the y that follows the glottal stop—which is the original glottal stop of the root ’-W-Y—has been changed into a y because two glottal stops coincide here, and because a short i precedes it, while it has itself been voweled with a short a. If you soften the glottal stop in mi’zar (‘loin-cloth, wrap’) you say mīzar, with a pure, long ī.”
Al-Māzinī says, “This is merely an arbitrary interpretation and claim of our colleagues, for it has not been established conclusively that the glottal stop in ’iwazzah is secondary.”
Al-Aṣma‘ī says,
The tribe of Jurhum feathered arrows; Jurhum then
was shot by notches and by tips of their own arrows!788
You followed them, deriving much benefit; then you came back and attacked what they said! You and they are like the ancient poet who said,
I taught him shooting, every day;
and when his arm was steady he shot me.789
Angrily, he gets up; the people of that session go their separate ways, having a blissful time.
[The Conversation with the Two Damsels]
Thereupon he is alone (may God’s beneficence never leave him alone) with two black-eyed damsels of Paradise. Dazzled by their beauty he exclaims, “Alas, the poor Kindite, who perished!790 You remind me of his verses:”
As was your wont before her, with Umm al-Ḥuwayrith,
and her neighbor friend, Umm al-Rabāb, in Ma’sal:
When they rose the scent of musk would waft from them,
like the eastern breeze, bringing the smell of cloves.
and his verses:
Just like two oryxes, ewes from Tabālah, bending tenderly
toward their calves; or like some Hakir statues:791
When they rose the scent of musk would waft from them,
of perfume from a flask, and odoriferous aloe wood.
But his girlfriends are no match for you, no nobility, no treat for the eye! Sitting in your company for even one minute of earthly reckoning is better than the realm of Ākil al-Murār and his kin, or that of the Naṣrids in al-Ḥīrah, or the Jafnids, kings of Syria.792
He turns to the two girls, sipping their sweet saliva, and says, “Imru’ al-Qays is a poor, poor soul! His bones are burning in hellfire, while here I am quoting his verse:
It seems the coolness of her teeth,
when birds at dawn are warbling, is
infused with wine, with rain, the smell
of lavender, the scent of aloe wood.
“or his verses:
Days when her mouth, as I roused her from her sleep,
would smell like musk, kept in its filter overnight,
Wine the color of gazelle’s blood, kept for years,
vintage from ‘Ānah or the vineyards of Shibām.”793
One of the girls begins to laugh uncontrollably. The shaykh asks, “Why are you laughing?”
“For joy, because of the favor that God has bestowed on me, and the forgiveness that he showed to me! Do you know who I am, ‘Alī ibn Manṣūr?”
“You are one of the black-eyed damsels whom God has created as a reward for the god-fearing. He said of you: ≪It is as if they are rubies and pearls.≫”794
She says, “Yes, I am indeed, through God Almighty’s kindness. But in the fleeting world I was known as Ḥamdūnah and I used to live in Iraq Gate in Aleppo, where my father worked a mill. A rag-and-bone dealer married me, but he divorced me because of my bad breath. I was one of the ugliest women in Aleppo. When I realized that I became pious and renounced this delusive world. I devoted myself to religious worship and earned a living from my spindle. This made me what you see now.”
The other one says, “And do you know who I am, ‘Alī ibn Manṣūr? I am Black Tawfīq, who used to work in the House of Learning in Baghdad in the time of Abū Manṣūr Muḥammad ibn ‘Alī al-Khāzin.795 I used to fetch the manuscripts for the copyists.”
He exclaims, “There is no god but God! You were black and now you have become more dazzlingly white than camphor, or camphire796 if you like.”
“Do you find that odd? After all, the poet says of some mortal being:
One mustard-seed of light from him, with all
black people mixed, would whiten all the blacks.”797
[The Tree of Damsels]
At that instant an angel comes along. The shaykh asks him, “Servant of God, tell me about the damsels with black, lustrous eyes: doesn’t it say in the Holy Book:798 ≪We have raised them and made them virgins and loving companions for the people on the right≫?”
The angel replies, “There are two kinds. One kind has been created by God in Paradise and they have never known otherwise, and there is another kind that God has transferred from the temporary world because they have done pious deeds.”
The shaykh is stupefied, i.e. amazed by what he has heard. He asks, “Where are the ones that have never been in the transitory world? And how do they differ from the others?”
The angel answers, “Just follow me and you will see a wondrous example of God’s omnipotence.”
He follows the angel, who takes him to some gardens the true nature of which only God knows. The angel says, “Take one of these fruits and break it open. This tree is known as the tree of the black-eyed damsels.”799
The shaykh takes a quince, or a pomegranate, or an apple, or whatever fruit God wills, and breaks it open. A girl with black, lustrous eyes whose beauty dazzles the other damsels of the Paradisical gardens emerges. She says, “Who are you, servant of God?”
He gives his name. She says, “I was promised I would meet you four thousand years before God created the world!”
At that the shaykh prostrates himself to magnify the omnipotent God and says, “Thus it says in the hadith: ‘I have prepared for my believing servants things no eye has seen nor any ear has heard—let alone that I should have told them about it!’800 (‘let alone’ is used in the sense of ‘don’t think about why’).”
It occurs to him, while he is still prostrate, that the girl, though beautiful, is rather skinny. He raises his head and instantly she has a behind that rivals the hills of ‘Ālij, the dunes of al-Dahnā’, and the sands of Yabrīn and the Banū Sa‘d.801 Awed by the omnipotence of the Kind and Knowing God, he says, “Thou who givest rays to the shining sun, Thou who fulfillest the desires of everyone, Thou whose awe-inspiring deeds make us feel impotent, and summon to wisdom the ignorant: I ask Thee to reduce the bum of this damsel to one square mile, for Thou hast surpassed my expectations with Thy measure!”
An answer is heard: “You may choose: the shape of this girl will be as you wish.”
And the desired reduction is effected.
[Between Paradise and Hell]
Then it occurs to him that he would like to see the people in Hell and how things are with them, that his gratitude for his blessings be magnified. For God says,802 ≪One of them said: I had a companion who would say, “Are you really one of those who believe that if we die and have turned to dust and bones we will be judged?” He said, “Won’t you look down?” So he looked down and saw him in the midst of blazing Hell. He said, “By God, you had nearly let me perish; but for my Lord’s blessing I would have been one of those brought there!”≫
[The Paradise of the Demons]
The shaykh mounts one of the animals of Paradise and goes forth. He sees some towns unlike the towns of Paradise, without the scintillating light; there are caves and dark, wooded valleys. He asks one of the angels, “What are they, servant of God?”
He replies, “This is the Paradise of the demons803 who believed in Muḥammad (God bless him), those that are mentioned in the Sura of the Sand Dunes and the Sura of the Jinnees.804 There are lots of them.”
The shaykh says, “I should like to pay them a visit; I am bound to hear some wonderful stories from them!”
He turns toward them and sees an old person who is sitting at the mouth of a cave. He greets him and the other answers the greeting politely, asking, “What brings you to this place, human? You would deserve a better one; like you there is none!”
The shaykh replies, “I heard that you are the believing jinnees, so I’ve come to ask for some stories about the jinnees, and perhaps to hear some poems by the rebellious jinnees.”805
The old jinnee says, “You’ve hit the bull’s eye; you’ve found me like the moon in its halo in the sky, like someone who waits before pouring away the hot fat:806 here am I! Ask whatever you like.”
The shaykh asks, “What is your name, old man?”
“I am al-Khayta‘ūr, one of the sons of al-Shayṣabān.807 We are not descended from the devil: we belong to the jinnees that lived on earth before the children of Adam (God bless him).”
[The Poetry of the Demons]
The shaykh says, “Tell me about the poems of the jinnees! Someone called alMarzubānī has collected a fair number of them.”808
The old man replies, “But that is all rubbish, wholly unreliable. Would humans know more about poetry than cattle know about astronomy and geodesy? They have fifteen different meters, and rarely transcend them;809 whereas we have thousands of meters that humans have never heard of. Some naughty toddlers of ours happened to pass by some humans and spat some poetry at them, a trifle like a splinter from an arak tree of al-Na‘mān.810 I myself composed informal rajaz and formal qaṣīd poetry an eon or two before God created Adam. I have heard that you, race of humans, are rapturous about Imru’ al-Qays’s poem, ‘Stop, let us weep for the remembrance of a loved one and a dwelling place,’811 and make your children learn it by heart at school. But if you wish I could dictate to you a thousand poems with the same meter and the same rhyme, -lī, a thousand such poems rhyming in -lū, a thousand in -lā, a thousand in -lah, a thousand in -luh, and a thousand in -lih, all composed by one of our poets, an unbeliever now burning in the depths of Hell.”
The shaykh (may God make him happy continually) says, “You have got a good memory, old man!”
The jinnee replies, “We are not like you, children of Adam, overcome by forgetfulness and moistness, for you have been created from ≪molded mud≫812 but we have been created from ≪a fiery flame≫”813
The shaykh is moved by a desire for erudition and literature to ask the old man, “Will you dictate some of these poems to me?”
“If you like, I will dictate to you loads more than camels can carry and all the pages of your world can contain.”
The shaykh has a mind (may his mind ever be lofty) to take some dictation from him. But then he says to himself, “In the transitory world I was always wretched when I pursued a literary career; I never profited from it. I tried to curry the favor of leading persons but I was milking the udder of a bad milch-camel and was exerting myself with the teats of a slow cow. I’ll never be a success if I give up the pleasures of Paradise in order to copy the literature of the jinn. I’ve got enough erudition as it is, all the more so because forgetfulness is so rife among the dwellers in Paradise that I have turned out to be one of those with the greatest erudition and the largest memory, thanks be to God!”
He asks the old man, “How should I address you respectfully?”814
“As Abū Hadrash. I have fathered God knows how many children, whole tribes of them, some in the burning Fire, others in Paradise.”
The shaykh asks him, “Abū Hadrash, how come you are gray-haired? I thought those who dwell in Paradise would be young.”815
“Humans have been given that privilege, but we have been denied it because we could change shape in the past world. Anyone of us could be a speckled snake if he so wished, or a sparrow if he wanted, or a pigeon. But in the Hereafter we are forbidden to change shape. We are left as we were created originally. The children of Adam have been given a beautiful appearance by way of compensation. As some human said in the world that was: we have been given make-shift (ḥīlah), and the jinnees have been given shape-shift (ḥūlah).”
[Abū Hadrash tells stories and recites poems by the jinn. Ibn al-Qāriḥ travels on and meets various speaking animals and, on the outskirts of Paradise, the poets al-Ḥuṭay’ah and al-Khansā’, who wants to be as close as possible to her lamented brother Ṣakhr, now in Hell (see above, p. 12). At the very edge of Paradise, he can see Hell.]
The shaykh looks down and sees Satan816 (God curse him!), writhing in fetters and chains, while Hell’s angels have a go at him with iron cudgels. The shaykh says, “Thanks be to God, who has got the better of you, enemy of God and of His friends! How many generations of Adam’s children you have destroyed, only God can count.”
The devil asks, “Who is this man?”
“I am ‘Alī ibn Manṣūr ibn al-Qāriḥ, from Aleppo. I was a man of letters by profession, by which I tried to win the favor of rulers.”
“A bad profession indeed! You’ll live on a minimum income, hardly enough to keep your family. It’s a slippery business; many like you have gone to perdition because of it. Congratulations on being saved! ≪So beware, and again, beware!≫817 But I’d like you to do something for me. If you do I will be much obliged.”
“I cannot possibly do anything to help you, for there is a Qur’anic verse already about those in Hell; I mean the words of the Exalted,818 ≪Those in Hell will call to those in Paradise, ‘Pour us some water or whatever God has given you!’ They will reply, ‘God has forbidden these things to the unbelievers!’≫”
Satan says, “I am asking you none of that. I am asking you to tell me something: wine is forbidden to you in the temporal world but permitted in the Hereafter; now, do the people in Paradise do with the immortal youths what the people of Sodom and Gomorra did?”
The shaykh exclaims, “Damn you, haven’t you got enough to distract you? Haven’t you heard what the Exalted says:819 ≪There they will have pure spouses and they will live there forever≫?”
[After a trip to Hell, where he speaks with pre-Islamic poets mainly about the philological problems of their poetry, Ibn al-Qāriḥ returns to Paradise.]
Passing through the fields of Paradise he meets the girl that had come out of the fruit. She says, “I have been waiting for you for some time. What has kept you from visiting me? Surely I have not been with you long enough yet to bore your ears with my conversation! I am entitled to preferential treatment from you like any newly wedded wife! A husband has to give her special attention, more than his other wives.”
The shaykh replies, “I felt like having a chat with the people in Hell and when I had done what I wanted, I came back to you. Now follow me, between the Ambergris Hills and the Musk Dunes!”
They cross the hills of Heaven and the sands of Paradise, and she says, “Dear departed servant of God, I think you are imitating the deeds of the Kindite,820 when he says:
Then I got up, taking her with me, as she trailed
over our tracks the train of an embroidered gown.
When we had crossed the clan’s enclosure, turning to
a sandy coomb with twisting slopes,
I drew her side-locks toward me and she leaned
to me, slender her waist but plump her calves.”
The sheihk replies, “God’s omnipotence is truly marvellous! You have said precisely what I was thinking, too, in my heart of hearts. But how do you know about Imru’ al-Qays? I thought you had grown up in a fruit, far from jinnees and humans?” She answers, “God is able to do everything.”
He remembers the story of Imru’ al-Qays at Dārat Juljul.821 Instantly God, the Almighty, creates girls with black, lustrous eyes, who contend with one another in plunging into one of the rivers of Paradise, playing together. In their midst is one prettier than all the others, like Imru’ al-Qays’s girlfriend. They throw bitter, acid weeds to one another,822 but they smell like the costliest perfume of Paradise. He slaughters for them his riding animal; he eats and they eat some of it, which is indescribably delicious and delectable.
[With the Rajaz Poets]
He passes by some houses that are not as lofty as the other houses in Paradise. He asks about them and is told that this is the Garden of the Rajaz Poets,823 the dwelling place of al-Aghlab al-‘Ijlī, al-‘Ajjāj, Ru’bah, Abū l-Najm, Ḥumayd al-Arqaṭ, ‘Udhāfir ibn Aws, and Abū Nukhaylah,824 and all the others who received forgiveness.825
[The shaykh says,] “Blessed be the Almighty Giver! The Prophetic Tradition that has come down to us has come true: ‘God loves that which is lofty and dislikes that which is lowly.’826 Rajaz is really a lowly sort of poetry: you people have fallen short so you have been given short measure.”
Ru’bah827 appears on the scene. The shaykh says to him, “Abū l-Jaḥḥāf! You were rather fond of unpleasant rhyme-letters. You made poetry on the letter gh, on ṭ, on ẓ, and other intractable consonants! And you have produced not even a single memorable saying nor a single sweet expression.”
Ru’bah says angrily, “And you are saying that to me, though I am quoted by al-Khalīl and Abū ‘Amr ibn al-‘Alā’!828 And, in the past world, you yourself used to flaunt your knowledge of words that those scholars have taken from me and my colleagues!”
Seeing Ru’bah’s high self-regard, the shaykh (may his opponent ever be defeated) replies, “If your rajaz verse and that of your father were melted down you wouldn’t get one single decent qaṣīdah out of it. I have heard that Abū Muslim829 was talking to you and spoke of the son of a ‘slattern’ and you did not know the word, so that you had to ask about it in your tribe! You have received rewards from kings without deserving them; others would have been more entitled to them.”
Ru’bah answers, “But surely your leader, in the past, whose views were accepted as normative,830 used to quote my verses as evidence, making me a kind of authority!”
The shaykh, quick at repartee, says, “Being quoted is nothing to boast about.831 For we find that they also quote any sluttish slave girl who brings brushwood to fan a fire that blazes on a cold morning when frost has shaken out its feathers and a hoary-headed man fashions firewood from his humble hut, flinging it into the flames so that he can huddle in its heat; to pick mushrooms and fungi is her most glorious day, or to follow a camel driven away. Her master is a brute who is stupid and doesn’t care a hoot. And how often do grammarians quote any tiny tot, who knows of letters not a jot? Or any person of the female gender, in need of men to defend her?”
Ru’bah replies, “Have you come to my place only to quarrel with me? In that case, please be on your way! You criticize everything I say!”
The shaykh says (may God silence his opponent), “I swear that your verses are not suitable for praising those that hear them:832 they are no better than tar with which you besmear them! You hit your patrons’ ears with verses like boulders; one would rather be pleased with the scent of mandal wood when it smoulders.833 When you pass from describing the need of a long-suffering camel to describing a galloping steed or barking hounds at full speed, then you are lost indeed!”
Ru’bah replies, “God, praised be He, has said,834 ≪They hand one another cups; neither drivel is there nor recrimination.≫ But what you say is truly drivel; it is neither fair nor civil!”
After this lengthy exchange between him and Ru’bah, al-‘Ajjāj hears of it and approaches to separate the two. The shaykh is reminded (may God remind him of pious deeds) that those who drink old wine will reposefully recline. This is what he now chooses, but with a mind unbefuddled and a foot unstumbling.835 And behold, he imagines the wine seeping through his relaxed limbs like ants creeping on a dune in the light of the moon. He hums the verse of Iyās ibn al-Aratt:836
If you, fault-finding woman, would drink wine
till all your fingers tingled,
You would forgive me, knowing I was right
to squander all my money.
He reclines on a silk mat, telling the damsels with their black, lustrous eyes to lift the mat and put it on one of the couches of the dwellers in Paradise. It is made of peridot, or of gold. The Creator has formed rings of gold, fixed on all its sides, that the immortal youths and the girls, who have been compared to pearls,837 can take hold of a ring each. In this manner Ibn al-Qāriḥ is carried to the dwelling place that has been erected for him in the Eternal Abode. Whenever he passes a tree, its twigs sprinkle him with rosewater mixed with camphor, and with musk, though not from a musk rat’s blood obtained, but by God the Almighty ordained. The fruits call at him from every side, as he lies on his back: “Would you like me, Abū l-Ḥasan, would you like me?”
Thus, if he wants a bunch of grapes, for instance, it is plucked from its branch by God’s will and carried to his mouth by His omnipotence, while the people of Paradise shower him with various greetings: ≪Their final call will be: Praise be to God, Lord of all Beings!≫838 Thus he is employed, for aye and ever, blessed in length of time delectable, not to change susceptible.