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Informationen zum Autor Nezami Ganjavi (1141-1209) was a twelfth-century Persian poet. His accessible, realist style transformed Middle Eastern epic poetry, and he is now widely considered to be the greatest romantic poet in all of Persian literature. Dick Davis is an English-American poet and translator. Before the Islamic Revolution, Davis lived in Iran and taught English at the University of Tehran. Davis is now a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature, and is considered to be one of the world's foremost translators of Persian literature. Klappentext The Persian epic that inspired Eric Clapton's unforgettable love song "Layla" and that Lord Byron called "the Romeo and Juliet of the East," in a masterly new translation A Penguin Classic The iconic love story of the Middle East, by a twelfth-century Persian poet who has been compared to Shakespeare for his subtlety, inventiveness, and dramatic force, Layli and Majnun tells of star-crossed lovers whose union is tragically thwarted by their families and whose passion continues to ripple out across the centuries. Theirs is a love that lasts a lifetime, and in Nezami's immortal telling, erotic longing blends with spiritual self-denial in an allegory of Sufi aspiration, as the amenities of civilization give way to the elemental wilderness, desire is sublimated into a mystical renunciation of the physical world, and the soul confronts its essence. This is a tour de force of Persian literature, in a translation that captures the extraordinary power and virtuosity of the original. Leseprobe The Beginning of the Story Hear what the teller of this history said By stringing speech's pearls on verse's thread. There lived an Arab king, whose excellence Increased his splendid realm's magnificence; Lord of the Amir tribe, his virtues nourished His prosperous country, which grew great and flourished. The sweet breeze of his fame made Arab lands More fragrant than the wine cup in his hands- A lord of virtues, chivalry's copestone, For worth-in all the world-he stood alone, An Arab king, successful beyond measure, Wealthy as Korah, rich with endless treasure, Attentive to the poor, and to his friends A generous host whose kindness never ends, As though Good Fortune were the soul within His nature, like a pith beneath the skin. But he was childless still, for all his fame, And like a candle when it has no flame. More needy than a shell for pearls, or than A husk without its seeds, this desperate man Longed for a son, for Fate to let him see A fruitful branch spring from the royal tree, Hoping that when the cypress seed was sown Another cypress would have quickly grown, So that a pheasant in the meadows would Perceive a new tree where the old had stood, And once that tree's allotted life had passed He'd shelter in the shade the new tree cast. A man survives if in the world somewhere His memory lives within his son and heir. And to this end he gave in charity Money to mendicants perpetually, Giving out gold to gain the moon; but though He sowed the seed he saw no seedling grow. He sought and did not find, for all his pains, And rode straight on, and would not tug his reins And stop or turn aside, and still it seemed He'd never find the son of whom he dreamed. (And if you seek like this in vain, accept That this is not an outcome to regret, Whatever good or bad is brought by Fate- Look, and you'll see that it's appropriate: That pearl you thought you wanted, look once more And see that it's not worth your struggling for. Many desires don't see the light of day And men are lucky that they stay this way...
