Her Name on His Lips

O you with the wounded heart,

Whose tears, like smoke, reach the heavens.

Let your eyes rest a moment here,

Upon this tale of love and madness.

Have you heard the tale of Layli and Majnun? In the Hejaz, long centuries ago, Majnun fell in love with the girl, Layli. Every day he recited to any who would listen verses of love for her. The wind did not draw breath that was not suffused with Layli’s name. But her father did not approve of Majnun, thinking him too passionate, which he equated with stupidity, too besotted, which he considered inconstancy, and too poor, a greater fault than the others together. On Majnun’s verses alone, Layli could not subsist. Though Layli loved Majnun, her father forbade her to see him or speak with him. Yet Majnun persisted in his devotion. 

Majnun’s love is an old tale. Layli is not so well-remembered for loving Majnun, but her love was never doubted even, when at her family’s prompting and in obedience to her father, she married another man. When Majnun heard of Layli’s marriage, he exiled himself in the wilderness, living a life of solitude and deprivation. Yet still he wrote verses for Layli, extolling her beauty and her virtues. When pilgrims passed through the land, Majnun gave them scraps of bark or stone upon which he etched words of love for Layli. These they would take to Layli; she would pay them with a few coins and send them back with letters for her beloved. At last, however, Layli’s family discovered the truth and her father intercepted every pilgrim sent to see Layli, destroying Majnun’s messages, and allowing Layli to think Majnun had forgotten or abandoned her. Yet Majnun wrote still faithfully every day, never again hearing a reply from Layli. 

Layli was dejected, wondering why Majnun’s messages no longer came. Her father said, ‘He was inconstant. He has forgotten you; his love was never true or real. He deceived you, tempting you to ruin. But, now that you have children and a household to look after, he has lost interest and moves on to other more easy prey.’ And, at last, Layli wondered if her father was right. Had Majnun ever loved her? Thus, she doubted Majnun’s love, yet it was her love that was weak and wanting. 

Layli remained faithful to her husband, raised their children, worked every day, but always with that emptiness in her heart that Majnun’s voice once filled with joy. Only in absence now did she recall his presence. But resigned to her duties as wife and mother, she lived her life not knowing that Majnun still loved her, dreamed each night of her, and woke each morning with her name on his lips.