The City Girl and the Country Girl

O thou who hearest me, I will recite

One of these stories I am master of--

A tale that's true. By these I move the hearts

Of lovers like to thee, and I divert

Their minds with pleasant stories. As I hear,

So I relate them, and they please my friends,

By flow of wit and eloquence of thought.

I tell of beauties' battle. And my song

Is written in perfection, straight and clear.

Thinking of naught I walked along one day

When I had gone to see some beauties fair

Whose like I ne'er have seen in city nor

In country yet. I should have said

That they were sun and moon, and that the girls

Of that time were bright stars surpassing far

The Pleiades. The stars are envious

In their far firmaments, each of

The other. That's the reason why we see

Eclipses of the sun and moon.

My tale

Is true. The women, like unto the stars,

Are jealous also. Two young virgins met

The day I saw them, a sad day for them,

For one was jealous of the other one.

The citizeness said to the Bedouine:

"Look at thy similars and thou shalt see

In them but rustics, true dogs of the camp.

Now what art thou beside a city girl?

Thou art a Bedouine. Dost thou not dream

Of goat-skin bottles to be filled at dawn?

And loads of wood that thou must daily cut?

And how thou'rt doomed to turn the mill all night,

Fatigued, harassed? Thy feet, unshod, are chapped

And full of cracks. Thy head can never feel

The solace of uncovering, and thou,

All broken with fatigue, must go to sleep

Upon the ground, in soot and dust to lie,

Just like a serpent coiled upon himself.

Thy covering is the tatters of old tents,

Thy pillow is the stones upon the hearth.

All clad in rags thou hast a heavy sleep

Awaking to another stupid day.

Such is the life of all you country folk.

What art thou then compared to those who live

In shade of walls, who have their mosques for prayer

Where questions are discussed and deeds are drawn?"

The Arab woman to the city girl

Replied: "Get out! Thou'rt like a caverned owl.

And who art thou beside the Arab girls,

The daughters of those tribes whose standards wave

Above brave bands of horsemen as they speed?

Look at thy similars. The doctor ne'er

Can leave their side. Without an illness known

They're faded, pale, and sallow. The harsh lime

Hath filled thy blood with poison. Thou art dead,

Although thou seem'st alive. Thou ne'er hast seen

Our noble Arabs and their feats of strength,

Who to the deserts bring prosperity

By their sharp swords! If thou could'st see our tribe

When all the horsemen charge a hostile band,

Armed with bright lances and with shields to break

The enemy's strong blow! Those who are like

To them are famed afar and glorified.

They're generous hosts and men of nature free.

Within the mosques they've built and lodgings made

For tolba and for guests. All those who come

To visit them, bear gifts away, and give

Them praises. Why should they reside in town

Where everything's with price of silver bought?"

The city girl replied: "Oh, Bedouine,

Thou dost forget all that thou hast to do.

Thou go'st from house to house, with artichokes

And mallows, oyster-plants, and such,

Thy garments soaked all through and through with grease.

This is thy daily life. I do not speak

Of what is hid from view. Thy slanders cease!

What canst thou say of me? Better than thee

I follow all the precepts of the Sonna

And note more faithfully the sacred hours.

Hid by my veil no eye hath seen my face:

I'm not like thee, forever in the field.

I've streets to go on when I walk abroad.

What art thou, then, beside me? I heard not

The cows and follow them about all day.

Thou eatest sorrel wild and heart of dwarf

Palm-tree. Thy feet are tired with walking far,

And thy rough hands with digging in the earth."

"Now what impels you, and what leads you on,"

The country girl of city girl inquired,

"To outrage us like this and say such words

Against us, you who are the very worst

Of creatures, in whom all the vices are

Assembled? You are wicked sinners all,

And Satan would not dare to tell your deeds.

You are all witches. And you would betray

Your brother, not to speak of husbands. You

Walk all unguarded in the street alone,

Against your husband's will. And you deny

Your holy faith. The curse of heav'n will weigh

Upon you when you go to meet your God.

Not one of you is honest. O ye blind

Who do not wish to see, whence comes your blindness?

You violate the law divine, and few

Among you fear the Lord. 'Tis in the country,

Amid the fields, that women worship God.

Why say'st thou that the city women sole

Are pious? Canst thou say my prayers for me?"

"What pleasure have the country girls?" replied

The city girl. "They've no amusements there.

There's nothing to divert the eyes. Their hands

They do not stain with henna, setting off

A rounded arm. Rich costumes they wear not,

Which cost some hundred silver pieces each,

Nor numerous garments decked with precious stones.

They are not coifed with kerchiefs of foulard

With flowers brocaded. Neither have they veils

Nor handkerchiefs of silk and broidered gold.

They never have a negress nurse to bring

Their children up and run on services

Throughout the house. And yet they boast as loud

As any braggart. Why bring'st thou the charge

That I a blameful life do lead, whilst thine

Deserves reproof? Dirt in the country holds

Supreme control. The water's scarce enough

To drink, with none left for the bath. The ground

Serves you as bed, and millet is your food,

Or rotten wheat and barley."

Then took up

The word, and spoke the Arab woman dark:

"Who are thy ancestors? Which is thy tribe

Among all those that fill the mighty world?

You're only Beny Leqyt, and the scum

Of people of all sorts. Thou call'st thyself

A city woman. What are city men?

Thy lords don't slander folk. 'Tis only those

Who come whence no one knows who have so rude

A tongue. Thou wouldst insult me, thou, of stock

Like thine, with such a name abroad! And thou

Wouldst taunt a Qorechyte, a Hachemite

Of glorious ancestors who earned their fame.

Tis proper for a woman born of such

A stock illustrious to vaunt herself

Upon her origin. But thou, a vile

Descendant of a conquered race!

"Thou call'st

Thyself a Sunnite, yet thou knowest not

The three great things their Author gave to us:

(He knows all secrets.) First is Paradise,

Then the Koran, and then our Prophet great,

Destroyer of false faiths and for all men

The interceder. Whosoe'er loves him

Doth love the Arabs, too, and cleaves to them.

And whosoe'er hates them hates, too, in truth,

The chosen one of God. Thou hatest him,

For thou revil'st my ancestors, and seek'st

To lower their rank and vilify their fame.

Think on thine evil deeds, against the day

When in thy grave thou'lt lie, and that one, too,

When thou shalt rise again, insulter of

The Arabs, king of peoples on the earth."

"The Arabs I do not at all despise,"

The city woman said, "nor yet decry

Their honor, and 'tis only on account

Of thee I spoke against them. But 'tis thou

Who hast insulted all my family, and placed

Thy race above. He who begins is e'er

At fault, and not the one who follows. Thou

The quarrel didst commence. Pray God, our Lord,

To pardon me, as I will pray him, too,

And I the Arabs will no more attack.

If they offend me I will pardon them

And like them for our holy prophet's sake.

I shall awake in Paradise some day.

From them 'tis given, far beyond all price.

Frankly, I love them more than I do love

Myself. I love them from my very heart.

He who a people loveth shall arise

With them. And here's an end to all our words

Of bickering and mutual abuse."

I told them that it was my duty plain

To reconcile them. I accorded both

Of them most pure intentions. Then I sent

Them home, and made agreeable the way.

Their cares I drove away with honeyed words.

I have composed the verses of this piece,

With sense more delicate than rare perfume

Of orange-flower or than sugar sweet,

For those kind hearts who know how to forgive.

As for the evil-minded, they should feel

The zeqqoum. With the flowers of rhetoric

My song is ornamented: like the breast

Of some fair virgin all bedecked with stones

Which shine like bright stars in the firmament.

Some of its words will seem severe to those

Who criticise. I culled them like unto

A nosegay in the garden of allusions.

May men of lion hearts and spirit keen--

Beloved by God and objects of his care--

Receive my salutations while they live,

My countless salutations.

I should let

My name be known to him who's subject to

The Cherfa and obeys their mighty power.

The mym precedes, then comes the written ha.

The mym and dal complete the round and make

It comprehensible to him who reads

Mahomet. May God pardon me this work

So frivolous, and also all my faults

And errors. I place confidence in him,

Creator of all men, with pardon free

For all our sins, and in his mercy trust,

Because he giveth it to him who seeks.

The country girl and city girl appeared

Before the judge, demanding sentence just.

In fierce invectives for a while they joined,

But after all I left them reconciled.