The leaky roof

Abu Ahmad said: ‘Abd Allah Niftawayh said: I heard these verses from Muhammad ibn Yazid al-Mubarrad (meter: wāfir):

      I dread the night when leaks flood in and dump their worries,
          harrassing me until the break of day.
      Unwinking nights, thanks to my house
          when skies above are like a lovelorn eye.
      That is, it was a house when clouds grew thick.
          By the time the clouds moved on it was a road hazard.
      The hearts of all my neighbors fill with pity over me
          at the appearance of the faintest cloud of rain.

The verses are by al-‘Abbas al-Mashuq, who was called "The Lovelorn" (al-mashūq) after the namesake verse:

    ...when skies above are like a lovelorn eye

[Abu Ahmad said:] These verses by Dik al-Jinn were recited to me by someone else (meter: sarī‘):

      I've never spent a night, my brothers, and neither have you,
          as bad as the one I had last night.
      Every inch of my house
          has a leak streaming down from above

By al-Sanawbari (meter: wāfir):

      What a house I stay in! with a leak for my bunkmate,
          who shows no sign of ever moving out.
      When heaven weeps out of one eye,
          my house weeps back out of a thousand

And Ibn al-Mu‘tazz said (meter: ṭawīl):

      When I tell about the rain that fell I don't exaggerate,
          by the Lord Who into souls art the All-Seeing!
      My house's roofing sags to the earth we trample.
          Its walls kneel and bow down to the ground.

And Ibn al-Rumi said (meter: ṭawīl):

      Thr roof above me has me sleepless. It shades me
          like a stormcloud gushing.
      When its clay sealant [takes on water and] weighs it down,
          its edges creak like chirping crickets.

From A Well-Kept Treasury of Literature by Abu Ahmad al-‘Askari

Three poems by David Larsen

appear in R&R, the online journal of Relegation Books (Falls Church, VA). Thanks, Joseph!

Aiden Milligan, "Mon the Minks!" (2024). Acrylic on canvas, 45 x 30cm     

Men killed by mules

Among those killed by their own mules was Khalid, the son of ‘Uthman ibn ‘Affan, may God be pleased with him. Khalid was at a spot called al-Suqya when he said: "Today is Friday! If I don't join the community for midday prayers behind the Commander of the Faithful, it will be a terrible offense." He had a mule unmatched for speed, and for seventy miles he rode it to Medina, falling dead on arrival at the hour of prayer. But the mule survived.

Another man killed by his mule was al-Mundhir ibn al-Zubayr, who was called Abu ‘Uthman. He rode a mule with a sorrel coat into battle against a battalion of Syria [in the Second Civil War of Islam], after his brother ‘Abd Allah ibn al-Zubayr harangued and goaded him into it. When his mule heard the clash of arms, it bolted for high ground, carrying al-Mundhir wide of his companions. And the Syrian fighters went after him. "Run, Abu ‘Uthman!" cried ‘Abd Allah. "My father and mother be your ransom!" But the mule stumbled, and the Syrians caught up to him and killed him.
      Yazid ibn al-Mufarrigh referred to this event in his invective against ‘Ubayd Allah ibn Ziyad (meter: kāmil):

      On any given day, Ibn al-Zubayr was the better fighter,
          but on the day he urged al-Mundhir into war,
      what distinguished him was the patient endurance
          of a meanfisted man holding short on a sale

The poet ‘Abbas al-Mashuq rode mounted on a mule behind a young man who promised him a donation of clothing. Then the mule balked, and the man was thrown to the ground and broke both femurs. At this, al-Mashuq said (meter: ramal):

      I would give hand and foot
          for your injury [to have befallen me instead of you].
      It wasn't the mule's fault!
          The fault was my own penury.

Another man thrown by his mule was the poet al-Bardakht, by name ‘Ali ibn Khalid, who showered Jarir ibn ‘Atiyya with invective verse. "What invective poet is this?" Jarir asked. "Al-Bardakht," they told him.
     "And what, pray tell, is a bardakht?" he asked. "It means someone with free time," they said.
     "Well I'm not the first to put him to work," Jarir said.
      The mule that threw Bardakht was granted him by Zayd al-Dabbi, on whom Bardakht said (meter: basīṭ):

      To the mule that almost killed me, I say:
         "No thanks to Zayd and his donations!"
      Gold and shining silver he kept back when I came asking,
          gifting me instead a portion of death

It was Bardakht who satirized Zayd for the newness of his wealth. At a celebration of Zayd's reign [as governor of Khorasan], he came up to him and said (meter: wāfir):

      As long as I live, I'll never greet Zayd
          with the greeting reserved for a ruler.

"I could care less, by God!" said Zayd. Bardakht said:

      Do you remember when a sheep's hide was your blanket
          and for sandals you had camel hide?

"So what, by God!" said Zayd. Bardakht said:

      Praise be to Him Who made you regent,
          and assigned you a throne for your seat

"Yes! Praise be to Him," said Zayd, and Bardakht took his leave, having distinguished himself at the encounter.

From The Book of Mules by al-Jahiz

An ass is being beaten

     Hard as a chemist's pestle is the ass they beat.
     Rinsed in his own piss, and gagging on it
         [if pools of piss be all there is to drink],
     his forelegs pebbled like a pox victim's hide,
     he lunges at aggressive rivals, and when his bite misses,
     the clash of his teeth chirps like a sparrow.
     In this ass's stable, the yearlings are pregnant.
     But do you know the abode in the heights of Dhu 'l-Qur
     defaced by dust on the bawling winds?
     Blanketing sands are what's left of the place
     gone bleak and abandoned to the weather,
     only an outline where their trench was
     long ago, and it was a joy to the eye
     that beheld the dark-eyed beauties there abiding    

From The Book of Lexical Rarities of Abu Zayd al-Ansari

The myth of concrete languages

Whether railing against literary theories or the literary works in which they are realized, Julien Benda graces rhetoric with a proof per absurdum. His intention is, in effect, to show that our modern literature, incapable of conforming to rules and conventions, stuck in raw emotion, the purely carnal, and the individual—that its verbal orientation toward concrete particulars is analogous to "primitive" languages like the language of the Hurons, who have one word for eating rice, another for eating meat, another for eating fruit, and so on, but not one single word meaning to eat, nor words for infinite or absolute, and exhibit likewise a most peculiar lack of general ideas. To this, Benda opposes the faculty of abstraction: "the human race's great title to nobility," such as Rhetoric offers it to us.

The common thesis in which Benda participates here, and might well find sociologists to sustain it, is all too plain, its falsity easy to spot. After all—no less than modern writers—primitives have their own abstract ideas that are not ours (among which it is sufficient to name taboo, mana, and wakan). The primitive has then the right to say: "The French have ten words [for 'chicken']: poussin, poulet, poule, coq, and so on, where I have only one, akoho. What a pitifully concrete language! What a lack of abstract wit!"
     "But," the Frenchman will say, "I have a concept of the species, even if I lack the word."
     "And what makes you so sure I lack the concept of eating?" the Huron will reply.

The illusion that Benda obeys here is what I'll call the myth or mirage of concrete languages. It is the same illusion that causes foreign language, argot and technical usage to seem more "lively" and imagistic than our own, to the degree that they are foreign. (And indeed, it is upon their concrete side that we stumble first.)

"Julien Benda, or the Myth of Concrete Languages" (1953)
 by Jean Paulhan

Into the Tigris

Al-Hasan ibn Ja‘far said to me: I was told by ‘Abd Allah ibn Ibrahim al-Hariri that

Abu l-Khayr al-Daylami said: I was sitting with Khayr the Weaver when a woman came up and said, "I'm here for the kerchief I left with you." "Okay," he said, and gave it to her.
     "What do I owe you?" she asked. "Two dirhams," he said.
     "I don't have it on me right now," the woman said. "I'll bring it to you tomorrow, if God wills. But more than once I've passed by here and not found you."
      Khayr said to her, "If you bring it by and can't find me, just throw it in the Tigris River, and I'll pick it up when I get back."
     "Pick it up from the Tigris?" the woman asked. "How?"
     "Your curiosity goes too far," he said. "Just do as I've instructed."
     "If God wills," she said, and went away.

Abu l-Khayr said: I went back the next day, and Khayr was absent. Then along came the same woman, with two dirhams wrapped in a rag. Finding him gone, she sat down and waited for an hour, then stood up and flung the rag into the Tigris—where along came a crab, grabbed hold of the rag, and dove with it below the water's surface.
      An hour later, Khayr came back and opened the door to his shop, then crouched by the river's edge to wash his feet. And the crab emerged from the water and came toward him with the rag upon its back! And brought it close enough for Khayr to pick it up.
      I spoke. "I just saw...." He said, "I'd rather you not tell people about this while I'm alive," and I answered, "Okay."

From The Ornament of God's Friends by Abu Nu‘aym al-Isbahani

Fire's triple name

[T]he third ring [of Hell's seventh circle is] where he pictures the torments of the violent against Divinity. Just as violence can be committed in three ways, this form of violence is likewise divided in three: blasphemy, unnatural sex acts, and usury.

He pictures mortal sinners—blasphemers, sodomites, and brute fornicators—crisscrossing a field like the sandy plain of Libya trod by Cato. From his station at the edge of this field, or its outer bank, he says it is showered with flames like those Alexander witnessed raining on his army, which he and his armed battalions took care to smother. These flames represent the thoughts and impulses that fire up such infamies as the three sins under discussion here.

One blasphemer he mentions is Capaneus the king, who together with kings Adrastus, Tydeus, Polynices, Amphiaraus, Hippomedon, and Parthenopaeus went against Eteocles, king of Thebes, and mounted a seige against his city. The arrogance of Capaneus was so outsized that he railed against the gods as if they were men, above all Bacchus, god of Thebes. For this he was struck down and killed by Jove amid the fray, about which Statius says:

     Here then was Capaneus in a towering passion for war
     [....] a confirmed hater of the gods, and of justice

Against such blasphemers, David says [in Psalm 18 / II Samuel 22]: "Hail and coals of fire shot through the clouds that screened the brilliance in His glare [....] He sent His arrows out, and scattered them; He multiplied His bolts of lightning, and threw them into panic." And John in the second chapter of his letter [Nicholas Trevet in his commentary on Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy, 1.M4] says: "Persecution of the haughty is symbolized by a bolt of lightning, because hauteur, like lightning, originates on high." Blasphemy is a sin against the Holy Ghost, for which reason God in Leviticus says to Moses: "The man who curses his god shall bear his sin."

Capaneus's speech "If Jove should" etc. is a poetic expression of his hubris. His words about Jove's blacksmith, Vulcan, and how Jove pleads with him, engage the idiom in which Vulcan is poetically called the god of smiths, since no smith can forge metal without fire. It is said that Vulcan was born from Juno's thigh, and that he was hurled out of heaven by reason of his deformity, and landed on the island of Lemnos, which explains why he is called Lemnius. They say he was born of Juno's "thigh" because [air is Juno's realm, and] lightning is birthed from the bottom of the air. Thus says Lucan:

      Lightning sets ablaze the air that's closest to the earth

[Fire] is called by the triple name of Jupiter, Vulcan, and Vesta. Jupiter is the ethereal fire abiding in its own sphere, where it is simple and harmless. Vulcan is the lightning, the middle fire that causes harm, by which his name might be construed as "The Devouring Brilliance" (vorans candor > *Vorcan > Vulcan). And Vesta is the fire whose closeness we enjoy.

[Capaneus boasts that] if Vulcan and all the smiths of Aetna, whom the poets call Cyclopes or Telchines, were to blast him with their lightning, as at the battle of Phlegra, it would be futile. Phlegra was the site of the Gigantomachy, in or around Thessaly. If not for Vulcan and his smiths who munitioned Jove with lightning bolts and arrows, the Giants would have defeated him there. Statius mentions this battle in book two:

      Exactly thus did giant Briareus stand against
      the arms of Heaven, if you believe on Phlegra of the Getae

From Pietro Alighieri's Commentary on the Comedy of his Father Dante
(Inferno XIV.7–72)

Back in mauve

Thank you, James Sherry, for keeping
Zeroes Were Hollow (Kenning Editions, 2022)
before the public as a Roof Book!

Rear cover text by LRSN, animated by Josh Rigney

To bind and to gird

√’zr (derived nouns izār and mi’zar),     
with an introduction on √’sr      

The root √’sr is used across the languages. Geʽez asara, Hebrew, Egyptian Aramaic, Old Aramaic, and Judeo-Aramaic asar, Syriac and Palestinian Christian Aramaic esar, Akkadian esēru, and Ugaritic asr and asīr all have the same meaning: "To bind and tie."
      In the Hebrew Bible, for example, we find asar in the absolute to mean "to tie, to restrain," and "to fix (the order of battle)," and metaphorically, "to bind oneself with a pledge," where that pledge is called issār. We also find the noun esūr "bonds," and consequently bēth hā-esūr "house of bonds," meaning "prison" (as at Jeremiah 37:15).
      Hebrew asīr is identical in form and meaning to Arabic asīr "prisoner." At Zechariah 9:12, this is metaphorical: asīrē hat-tiqwā are "prisoners of hope." And assīr is a dialectical variant with the same meaning.

       

The verb azar too occcurs throughout the Hebrew Bible, with the meaning "to gird (one's loins) with a loincloth," i.e., to secure the cloth around them, as an expression of self-preparation for some undertaking (Job 38:3, 40:7; Jeremiah 1:17). This is analogous to the Arabic phrase Shadda izārahu "He secured his loincloth," meaning that he tucked it around himself and made ready. The Hebrew verb appears in one place (Job 30:18) with the meaning "to constrict," meaning that his whole garment enwrapped him [as tightly] as a loincloth, and there is a metaphorical instance where they "gird themselves in might" (I Samuel 2:4), meaning that they arm themselves with power.
      The verb occurs additionally in its Niphal form (signifying one's passive girding by another); and its Piel form means to gird someone else with strength (in three places), joy (in one place), or, in the absolute, to support them and grant them victory (one place); its Hithpael form means to wrap the izār around oneself.
      Ezōr, the Hebrew equivalent of Arabic izār, is generally derived from the above verb, though de Lagarde traces both ezōr and izār to the root verb wazara. In fact these verbs are scarcely different in form and meaning, and for the etymology of "loincloth" in either language it is needless to resort to wazara, since azara is in common use while *wazara is unattested in Hebrew.
      Zimmern opines in the Gesenius-Buhl Handwörterbuch that Hebrew ezōr derived from esōr—an archaic reflex of the verb asar discussed above, in which /s/ has metathesized into /z/—and furthermore that the verb azar stems from it. This a strange theory, because azar is attested in so many forms and senses in Hebrew, and this is uncharacteristic of denomimal verbs.
      In support of Zimmern's claim that asar "to bind" came before azar "to gird," one word for "loincloth" in Syriac is esārā, and in the Old Babylonian Mari Tablets there occurs mīsarrum, and later on mēseru, which mean the same. But Syriac has two rare words for "loincloth" that do derive from √’zr: īzrā and mīzrā (the exact equivalent of Arabic mi’zar), and a third, mīzrānā, which is more common. These three nouns raise the possiblity that the verb *azar, which is unattested in Syriac, may at one time have been been present alongside asar, which is attested.

       

In summary. (1) Arabic and Hebrew both use azar(a) "to gird with a loincloth" in one sense or another, from which various nominal forms signifying "loincloth" are derived. For other forms of binding and tying, they use derivatives of √’sr.
      (2) In the Akkadian language, words for "loincloth" are derived from √’sr, which signifies binding and tying in general, and the root √’zr is not present.
      (3) In Syriac, the verb *azar is not used, although three nominal derivatives of √’zr are attested, indicating that *azar may have been in use at some early stage of the language. There are Syriac words for "loincloth" derived from √’sr as well.
      In Arabic and Hebrew, the terms are more specific than in Akkadian, where "to gird" and "to bind" are signified by the same verb. In Syriac, meanwhile, there is oscillation between the two roots.
      In another Semitic language, namely Ugaritic, "loincloth" is signified by mẻzrt or mỉzrt, which occurs several times in the Tale of Aqhat, and once in the Baal Cycle. Furthermore, the verb ủzr occurs numerous times in the Tale of Aqhat with the apparent meaning "to secure one's loincloth," although there is disagreement on this among scholars [....]
      In conclusion, we find cognates for Arabic azara in Hebrew and Ugaritic, and nominal forms deriving from this verb in Syriac, though not the verb itself. In Syriac and Akkadian, "to bind" and "to gird" are signified equally by forms of √’sr, which has a broader range of meanings than √’zr. While these roots are close in meaning and phonetic makeup, the root √’zr is dedicated in certain Semitic languages to the securing of a loincloth, which may yet be signified by √’sr, the root of binding and tying in general.

Al-Sayyid Ya‘qub Bakr, "Comparative Studies on the Arabic Lexicon
(1–30)." Bulletin of the Faculty of Arts of the University of Cairo
20:2 (1958), 305–9 (No. 8)

Two palms of Hulwan

I am informed by my uncle, on the authority of al-Hasan, who heard from Ahmad ibn Abi Tahir that ‘Abd Allah ibn Abi Sa‘d was informed by Muhammad ibn al-Fadl al-Hashimi that Sallam al-Abrash said:

Harun al-Rashid set out for Tus, but when he got as far as Hulwan, he started having heart palpitations. His doctor ordered him to dine on heart of palm, and so he called upon the dehqan of the place and asked for some. The dehqan informed him that no palm trees grew in that area, but that along the mountain pass there stood two palms. "Give the order, and we'll cut one down for you." And it was done.
      The palm's heart was brought to al-Rashid, who felt better as soon as he ate it. But when he [resumed his journey, and] reached the mountain pass, he saw the palms, one chopped down and the other standing. And on the upright palm were written these lines (meter: khafīf):

      To my aid in bitter times I call
          the two palms of Hulwan to weep with me.
      I call on you and warn you
          of the evil fate to come and separate you.

This pained al-Rashid. "I am ashamed to be the instrument of that fate," he said. "If I had only heard this poem, I wouldn't have cut this palm. I would have died before letting this happen."

Al-Hasan ibn ‘Ali told me that al-Harithi ibn Abi Usamah said: I was told by Muhammad ibn Abi Muhammad al-Qaysi that Abu Sumayr ‘Abd Allah ibn Ayyub said:

When [Harun al-Rashid's father, the Caliph] al-Mahdi traveled the pass of Hulwan, he was so enchanted with the place that he stopped for a picnic. He called to Hasanah: "See how nice this is? Sing my life away for me, while I drink a few tumblers of wine." Hasanah took the body brush she was holding and thumped it against a cushion as she sang (meter: ṭawīl):

      Two palms of Wadi Buwanah, I hail thee
          while the grove-keeper is careless of your enclosure!

"Brava!" he said. "I was thinking of having them cut down"—meaning the two palms of Hulwan—"but your song stays my hand."
     "God forbid!" cried Hasanah. "May God protect me from the Commander of the Faithful, if you are ever the instrument of their evil fate!"
     "What fate is that?" the Caliph asked, and she began to sing the verses of Muti‘ ibn Iyas. When she got to the verse:

      I call on you and warn you
          of the evil fate to come and separate you

he said, "Brava! By God, your words have put me on notice. I will never cut these two down. In fact, I'll appoint a keeper, to tend and water them both as long as I shall live." He gave the order for this on the spot, and for the rest of al-Mahdi's life the decree was carried out.

From the Book of Songs

If in Palo Alto

Utilities of the soul

You must know that no mortal craftsman can practice their craft without utilities or implements. They need to have at least one. Between utilities and implements, there is this difference: The former include the hand and fingers, the foot, the head, the eye and all members of the human body, while "implement" refers to externalities like the carpenter's axe, the smith's hammer, the tailor's needle, the writer's pen, the shoemaker's awl, the barber's razor, and all such things used in the technical trades.

You must also know that the implements and materials of all craftsmen vary according to their trade, and that their actions differ accordingly. Each performs their own characteristic movements and types of action. The carpenter is an example of this: With an axe he planes things in a downward motion; with a saw he saws them in a back-and-forth motion; and with an auger he drills them in an elliptical right-to-left motion while the auger goes round and round. In this way, the motions performed in the practice of any craft reduce to seven: one that is circular, and six that are linear. This was divinely ordained, for the heavenly bodies have also seven types of movement, as discussed in our Epistle on Heaven and Earth: one that is circular, as originally intended, and six that are accidental; and the movements of sublunar entities follow this pattern. The former are causes, and the latter are effects bearing the traces of those causes. This is how the sages say that secondary matters tell of primary ones, in quite the way that games played by children tell of the trades practiced by their fathers, mothers, and teachers.

Brother, you must also know that in order to practice a trade, every mortal craftsman needs at least one moving member, such as the hand, the foot, the back, the shoulder, or the knee. Generally speaking, a "member" is a part of the body with which the soul can perform one action or several actions in counterpoise to some other part of the body. The members of the body are utilities of the soul, and serve the soul as tools, as we have discussed in our other Epistles.

From the Epistle on the Practical Crafts by the Brethren of Purity

Coverings

The word mi’zar can signify a pair of trunks. This meaning is specified by Lane, who says that mīzar and mi’zar are currently used in Egypt to designate "a pair of drawers."
    In Maliki law, it is stated that "No man shall enter the bathhouse without a mi’zar" (thus in the Epistle of Ibn Abi Zayd). In al-Nuwayri's Ultimate Ambition we find that al-Hakim bi-Amr Allah forbade anyone to enter the bathhouse without one, and this is reported by al-Maqrizi as well. And in Ibn Iyas, we read in a report of the year 824 AH/1421 CE that "When they went to wash the corpse of al-Malik al-Mu’ayyad, they could not find [in the sultan's domicile] the smallest ewer to douse his body with, and no towel to dry his beard until one of the washers of his corpse gave up his own handkerchief. And there was no mi’zar to shield his privates until they took one off a neighborhood mourner—a coarse black wrap of Upper Egyptian make. Praise to the One who glorifies and brings low!"
     Freytag defines mi’zara only as [the brief cloak called in Latin] a pallium, but it also designates a cloth that covers one's private parts and lower body. In his Travels, Ibn Battuta tells of "a beautiful shrine at Burj Bureh [modern Brijpur?] inhabited by a handsome, clean-living holy man called Muhammad the Naked, because he goes dressed in nothing but a waistcloth covering his navel, with the rest of his body exposed. This man is a pupil of the righteous saint Muhammad the Naked who dwelt in the Qurafa cemetery of Cairo—one of God's saints who went robed in nothing but a mi’zara [appearing as tannūra "kilt" in most manuscripts of the Travels], which is a waistwrap that hangs down from the midriff."
     Mi’zar can signify a cloak as well. In Ibn Iyas, we read in a report of the year 822/1419 that "the Sultan [al-Mu’ayyad] wore a white woolen tunic. On his head was a small turban with trailing fringes, and he draped a mi’zar of white wool over his shoulders in the Sufi fashion." And in [the tale of Muhammad ibn ‘Ali the Jeweler, a.k.a. "The Strange Caliph" from] A Thousand and One Nights: "He threw a black mi’zar over them, and from beneath it they began to watch."
     Among the garments of the monks of St. Anthony "on the slopes of Mt. Colzim," Vanslep describes the mezerre: "a great cloak of black material lined with white, sometimes called melótēs in Coptic, and sometimes bírros. It is like the cloaks of the Jesuits, only it has no collar, and except when traveling, they seldom wear it." [As mentioned above,] mi’zara is defined as pallium in Freytag's Lexicon, and Vansleb may had this form in mind when writing mezerre; similar though these words are, mi’zar is not at this time used to name that garment in Egypt.
     Lastly, the mi’zar can be a covering for the head. In his Travels, Ibn Battuta describes a particular form of mourning observed at Idhaj after the crown prince's death: "I happened that day upon a strange scene. The place was packed on every side with judges, orators, and nobles seated with bowed heads along the walls of the royal gallery, some of them weeping and others merely pretending to. Over their clothes, they wore rough, sacklike robes of raw cotton turned inside out, and every man's head was covered with rag or a black mi’zar. To those who kept this up for forty days, the sultan gifted a new set of clothes."
     It is in this sense that mi’zar entered Spanish as almaizar, defined by Covarrubias [the same] in his Treaury of the Castillian or Spanish Language as "a mantle-like veil or toque worn by Moorish women. It is made of fine silk, with colorful borders and fringes at either end." He continues: "Diego de Urrea says this garment is called in Arabic an izār, explaining al- as the definite article, and ma- as the marker of the instrumental noun: al + ma + izar = almaizar 'covering,' which the Moors wrap around their heads, leaving the fringes to hang down over their shoulders." Throughout early Spanish literature, almaizar and almaizal refer equally to head coverings for women and men.
     Mi’zar has also entered Italian: large panels of printed cloth with which women wrap their heads are called in Genoa mezzari. As for mi’zār (with long alif), that's one form I don't believe I've ever come across in Arabic.

From A Detailed Dictionary of Terms for Arab Dress (Amsterdam, 1845)
by Reinhart Dozy

Deviation and aversion, cont'd

Abū ‘Ubayd: Aza’a, ka‘‘a, and kabana [an anagram of nakaba treated earlier] all signify a "turn away" from something. Ḍaba‘a ["stretch forth"] means to "prefer" and "incline towards" a thing, as when a group inclines toward peace, while qaraḍa ["cut"] means to "avoid" a place, as in the verse [by Dhu 'l-Rumma, meter: ṭawīl]:

     [My gaze followed] the women's caravan flanked by horsemen
          on the right, as they skirted the interior of Mushrif on their left.

And i‘tataba is to "recede" from something, as in the verse [from the Hāshimiyyāt of al-Kumayt, meter: ṭawīl]:

      That yearning has receded from my heart.
          To the subject of this poem it is now attracted.

     Ibn Durayd: Ḍāfa is to "lean" toward something. Abū ‘Ubayd: Aḍāfa is for when you lean one thing against another so to bolster it. As for ṣāfa, the author of Kitāb al-‘Ayn says it means to "turn away"; its verbal nouns are ṣayf, maṣīf, and ṣayfūfa.
      Abū ‘Ubayd: Ṣāra, verbal noun ṣawr, is to "cause a bend" in something, while ṣawira, verbal noun ṣawar, is to "bend" intransitively. Anything affected this way can be described as aṣwar. Ṣāra is also to "deflect" something—this was mentioned earlier—and the derived form aṣāra means the same.
      Ibn al-Sikkit: Ashamma is to "deviate" from the direction in which one is moving. I heard al-Kilābī say: Ashamma is to "veer" to the right and left of one's direction.
      Abū ‘Ubayd: One's ‘alaz is one's "inclination" and one's "goal," from the verb ‘aliza [whose better-attested meaning is "to writhe in pain"].
      Abū Zayd: Janaḥa, voweled as yajnaḥu and yajnuḥu in the present tense, means to "lean" toward something, as does the derived form ijtanaḥa; ajnaḥa means to cause something or someone else to lean.
      Abū ‘Ubayd: Jāra yajūru, verbal noun jawran, is to "deviate"; transitive form ajāra is to cause someone else to deviate. Abū Zayd: Jāra may be used of anyone that leans. The author of Kitāb al-‘Ayn: ‘Aṣafa is [to "deviate"] from a route, the same as jāra.
      Ibn Durayd: Nāta, verbal nouns nawt and nayt, means to "sag." ‘Anad is "disinclination" toward something, and so is ‘and; their root verb is ‘anada ya‘nudu. A path that is ‘ānid is a deviant one. A riding camel described as ‘unūd, pl. ‘unud and ‘und, is one that runs wide of the path, due to her strength and high spirits.
      The author of Kitāb al-‘Ayn: Laḥj is a "leaning." Iltaḥaja is to "lean" intransitively, and alḥaja is the causative form. Ru’ba [or his father al-‘Ajjāj] said (meter: rajaz):

     ...or tongues tilt against us when they speak

—meaning that they incline away from praise, and speak ill of him.
      Ibn Durayd: Arghala and arghana mean to "lean." Zāgha, verbal nouns zawgh, zaygh, and zayaghān, is to "deviate from the path." Tazāyagha [a reciprocal form meaning "to lean toward each other"] is more correct than tazāwagha.
      Abū Zayd: Rāgha is to "wheel" on someone, whether to confer with them or attack them; in Qur’ān, [it says that Abraham] "wheeled upon [the idols of his people] and smacked them with his right hand."
      Ibn Durayd: ‘Āja, verbal nouns ‘awj and ‘iyāja, and its derived forms in‘āja and i‘wajja are all synonymous with ‘aṭafa ["to turn toward or against"]. Al-Aṣma‘ī: Tajānafa is to "divagate" from something.
      Ibn Durayd: Khanfasa means to "have a strong aversion" to something and to "despise" it; an obnoxious character cast out from society is what you call a khunfus.

From the Mukhaṣṣaṣ of Ibn Sīdah