Brains Confounded by the Ode of Abū Shādūf Expounded, with Risible Rhymes. Yūsuf al-Shirbīnī

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СКАЧАТЬ Ibn Kharūf” at the acacia trees of Kafr Shammirṭāṭī, or, as some say, at Kafr Tall Fandarūk; but the two statements may be combined, in which case one would say, “He died in Kafr Shammirṭāṭī and was buried in Kafr Tall Fandarūk.” His grave is now known as “the grave of Abū Jārūf,” and the peasants visit it and play ball next to it, and the animals urinate on it from time to time. A country poet elegized him in the following lines:

      10.11.1

      Ah come, good people, to my aid,

      And weep, mushāh, time and again!

      Abū Jārūf today away from us has turned,

      While his goat and cow remain.

      He’s left his father’s brother’s daughter, Umm Falḥas,¹³

      In an empty chamber today to weep and complain,

      And Abū Shādūf bawls fit to burst,

      “My father’s dead and it’s all gone awful again!”

      Gone is the hamlet’s shaykh who ruled

      O’er the brave lads and all those men!

      10.11.2

      And when, to go raiding, he used to mount

      His dog and primp and preen,

      And put his cap atop his head—

      His beard sticking out and looking mean—

      And about him were Jarw Ibn Kharā Inta Falḥas¹⁴

      And the mushāh of the hamlet, none worth a bead,

      You’d have said he was head of a band of musicians,

      Or the buffoon who’d come to plead!

      Gone now is his fart, God bless his bones

      And moisten his head-brick¹⁵ time and again!

      10.11.3

      As to Abū Shādūf, God preserve his youth

      And make him our shaykh, to rule to our gain,

      Like his father mounted, and may his army

      Troop after troop after troop contain,

      And may he buck like a donkey and set off around noon

      And lounge about pompously and sit in the shirāʿah.¹⁶

      Thus we end our words, and God alone endures,

      And death’s a cup from which none may abstain!

      And I’m a smart guy and all my life a poet,

      And I string together verses that shimmer and shine.

      10.11.4

      These I’ve made so all who behold them may mourn,

      And today with my words I’ve sent him off fine,

      And for the rest of my days I’ll praise the Beauteous,

      God’s Prophet, and pray his intercession to gain.

      Now the blessing’s done, so hear what I say:

      I hope you’re all snuffed by a clot on the brain!

      10.12

      And when the wake was over and the dust had settled and Abū Shādūf had received the condolences of the shaykhs and the brave lads, and he had distributed bran-and-barley pastries as alms for the repose of his father’s soul and had plastered his grave with mud and dung, and built the calf’s trough next to it, he put his cudgel over his shoulder and stepped out like a fine steed, and played the shaykh over the hamlet, and every Zayd and ʿAmr¹⁷ obeyed, and he sat on his ass with one knee up and one knee on the ground, and shouted and jumped, both up and down, and sang and made up poetry, of which he was proud, declaiming and saying out loud:

      10.12.1

      Me, Abū Shādūf—O Salāmah¹⁸—

      All my life I’ve made up verses and I’m a bright guy,

      And now my father’s in his grave¹⁹

      I’m shaykh of the hamlet, which none can decry!

      And I rule the foot soldiers and come and go,

      And I wade in the river up to my thigh,

      And I saddle my donkey and mount, around me

      A company like to a candle in the night sky,

      With Abū ʿUntūz and Abū Buzbūz²⁰ and ʿAflaq,

      While Blood-Lick-the-Back-of-Your-Neck and Abū ʿimāmah²¹ are nigh.

      10.12.2

      These days the world doesn’t hold my like,

      And I’ll boss you forever and go on being a helluva guy,

      And with my cudgel I’ll break the bones and smash the pate

      Of any who disobey.

      My father before me was shaykh over you,

      So let me be, and be on your way!

      And we close our words with praise of Muḥammad

      And his dandy companions, the people of generosity!

      10.13

      At this the shaykhs and the brave lads envied him the shaykhdom of the hamlet, to which he had succeeded after his father’s death, and they incited the authorities against him, and the latter sent for him and deprived him of a part or, as some say, of all of it, and he had nothing to fall back on but the binful of droppings, which he had kept out of sight and which had been the source of his prosperity after his father’s death, or so they say. However, he set about sucking up to people and flattering them, until the matter was forgotten and the winter came and he opened the bin one night and sold the droppings and made a good living, according to this version of events. Others, however, say that he borrowed twenty silver pieces and bought eggs with them and went to Cairo, where he happened to arrive on the feast of the Christians,²² so he sold the eggs for more than they were worth, and this was the source of his prosperity. The two versions may be reconciled by saying that he sold the droppings and bought eggs with the proceeds, so that his prosperity was the sum of the price of the droppings and the price of the eggs, and from this perspective there is no contradiction. And he took to handing out money and dispensing hospitality, and poets and men of letters from the farthest hamlets sought him out. One poet he rewarded with fifty eggs and a measure of barley, and to another he gave a hundred dung cakes, and yet another brought him a sack, which he filled with droppings from top to bottom СКАЧАТЬ