Song of Fatima[1]

My spirit is in pain, for it cannot

Forget my sweet gazelle, with eyes so black.

A fire burns in my heart, and all my frame

But wastes and withers. Where's thy cure, O Taleb?

I find no medicine that cureth love,

In vain I search. Sweet Fatima's the cause

Of all my woes, with khelkal tinted blue.

My heart endureth passion's pangs, my grief

Continues. Where's thy remedy, O Taleb?

Thy remedy is lost, my good Lord Taleb.

Pray God for me, O Taleb, I implore.

But how to cure the malady of love?

There is no remedy, and all is lost.

I die for lack of strength to bear my trials.

It is to thee that I intrust myself,

The healer who must bring rest to my heart;

For now a living brand burns in my breast.

If thou art skilful, find a cure for me.

This elegy is the work of a celebrated sheik of Tlemcen,

Mahomet-Ben-Sahla, whose period was the first half of the eighteenth

century. He left a son, Ben Medien, a poet, too, and his descendants still

live, near Tlemcen, in a village called Feddan-es-Seba.

Look in thy book and calculate for me

If thou canst quench the burning brand within.

I will become thy slave, and thou may'st keep

Me or at auction sell. Where is thy cure!

Thy remedy is lost, my good Lord Taleb.

The Taleb looked at me and said: "Take heart,

O lover, courage! Thou hast sipped, I see,

The cup of death already, and thou hast

Not long to live. But hear my counsel now.

Have patience! Tis the only thing that will

Sustain thee. Thou shalt thus obtain the gifts

Of Him who only knows thy future days.

Thy fate shall be unrolled according to

The will of God, the sovereign Lord most high.

"Turn to thy God. Beseech him constantly.

He hears with mercy and he knows all souls.

He turns away no one who comes to him.

He sees the bottom of their hearts, and lists.

Bear his decrees with patience camels show.

They walk from land to land and hope to lose

At last their burdens." Where's thy cure, O Taleb?

Thy remedy is lost, my good Lord Taleb.

O Taleb, search within thy book and find

The letters that give birth to friendship sweet.

Write them for me, and skilful be, I pray,

So God may give me happiness by them,

And cause my dear gazelle to pardon me,

And drive nay bitter sorrows all away.

My punishment too long has lasted. I

Am tired of waiting. Never was adventure

More strange than mine.

My cares continue, and

I am fatigued with efforts obstinate.

The trouble that I've taken to deserve

That pretty one, has been for me like that

Of daring merchant who doth undertake

A venture and gets nothing back but loss

And weariness. Where is thy cure, O Taleb?

Thy remedy is lost, my good Lord Taleb.

The Taleb answered unto me and said:

"Support her rigors. Listen now to me,

And I will give thee counsel sound and good.

Turn thy true heart aside from memory.

Forget thy love as she's forgotten thee.

Courage! Her loss now wastes and makes thee pale.

For her thou hast neglected everything.

And sacrificed a good part of thy days.

"My counsels heed and turn me not aside.

Hear what sages in their proverbs say:

'That which is bitter never can turn sweet,'

'Leave him whose intercourse is troublesome,

And cleave to one who hath an easy way,'

'Endure the pangs of love until they pass,'"

Where is thy cure, O Taleb? Tell me where.

Thy remedy is lost, O good Lord Taleb.

If thou art powerful, Taleb, my excuse

Accept, and give assistance to my cause.

Thy words are all in vain, they but increase

My woes. For ne'er can I forget my love,

My dear accomplished beauty. While I live,

I love her, queen of beauties, and she is

Soul of my soul, light of my eyes, my sweet.

And, oh, how grows my love! A slave I'd be,

Obedient to a man despised. Perhaps

That which is far removed, the nearest comes.

And if the moment comes, thou know'st it well

Who knoweth all the proverbs! He that's well

Shall perish, and the invalid be cured.

Where is thy cure, O Taleb? Tell me where.

Thy remedy is lost, my good Lord Taleb.

And then the Taleb answered him and said:

"Thou'rt taken in the snares of Qeys--thou know'st.

He laid strong siege to Leyla's heart and then

Awaited trembling at the trysting-place.

Thou now hast wooed thy love for two long years

And she will not relent, nor speak to thee.

God bless us both!"

The Lord is generous.

He sees. If trouble comes, he'll make it pass.

My lot is sad and I am full of fear.

The mountains tall would melt and turn to sand

If I to them my sorrows should relate.

Where is thy cure, O Taleb? Tell me where.

Thy remedy is lost, O good Lord Taleb.

O Taleb, should I tell my tale of grief

Unto a sabre of the Ind, 'twould melt

On hearing my laments. My heart cannot

Endure these tortures, and my breast's on fire.

My tale is finished, here I end my song,

And publish forth my name along with it;

It is Ben Sahla. I do not conceal

How I am called, and in my black despair

I do not cease my lamentations loud.

O ye who have experienced the stings

Of love, excuse me now and blame me not

In this affair. I know that I shall die,

O'ercome by woe. The doctor of my heart

Protracts my suffering. He cures me not,

Nor yet cuts short the thread of my sad life.

Where is thy cure, O Taleb? Tell me where.

Thy remedy is lost, O good Lord Taleb.