The baker-poet of Basra

For those who care so much about al-Mutanabbi's thievery from Abu Tammam, I shall expose his thievery from a latter-day poet far below Abu Tammam in stature and fame, lacking Abu Tammam's technique, his savvy, and his elevated style: namely, Nasr al-Khubza’aruzzi (The Rice-Bread Baker). Because if you really want to understand how al-Mutanabbi rips off Abu Tammam, you need to stop focusing on just him.

I'm well aware that some reject my view. They don't accept that al-Mutanabbi would copy the baker-poet, preferring Abu Tammam to a contemporary whose verse is ignored by scholars. They care only for imitations of al-Mutanabbi's great predecessor, whose prestige looms in their minds. But al-Mutanabbi's fans only know the sublimity and prosperity of his later years. They didn't know him when he was a total unknown of obscure station, even though this period of his life lasted longer than his riches and high estate, when his name became famous, and the sharpness of his acumen known to all.

The following report came to me from Abu 'l-Qasim ‘Ali ibn Hamza al-Basri, one of his closest friends who knew him best. Abu 'l-Qasim said he was with al-Mutanabbi at the time of his arrival in Kufa from Egypt, and observed his reaction when an old man [who had known the poet as a young man] used him less reverently than al-Mutanabbi was then accustomed to. "Ho, Abu 'l-Tayyib!" the old man said. "When you took leave of us, you had three hundred poems in your catalog. Thirty years later, you're back with just a hundred some-odd poems. Did you go scattering them along the road?"
    "Cut the funny stuff," said al-Mutanabbi.
    "Then tell me what happened to the poem called al-Shāṭiriyya (?), your emulative response to the poem by al-Khubza’aruzzi. You went all the way to Basra to make him hear it! Why have you stricken it now?"
    "That one was a lapse of my early career," said al-Mutanabbi.
    "Do you remember any of it?" I asked the old man, and he recited a few verses for me.
     Abu 'l-Qasim said: A good while later, I found another pretext for asking al-Mutanabbi: "Were you ever in Basra?"
    "Yes," he said.
    "Where'd you stay?" I asked him, and he named a place I knew to be just four or five houses down from al-Khubza’aruzzi's shop. And then I knew the old man was telling the truth.

Abu 'l-Qasim reported also that he asked the baker-poet's neighbors about al-Mutanabbi, and was told that long ago, in his youth, Abu 'l-Tayyib had indeed fraternized with him. But the stans deny that al-Khubza’aruzzi would hold any appeal. Due to the baseness of his poetic art, and his contemporaneity, they don't consider al-Khubza’aruzzi worthy of study, let alone an actual source for al-Mutanabbi. And so they miss al-Mutanabbi's appropriations of his work.

From Fair Judge of the Thief and the Stolen-From: An Exposé of the Plagiarisms of Abu 'l-Tayyib al-Mutanabbi by Ibn Waki‘ al-Tinnisi

Now available

I began reading this text in Cairo, fifteen years ago. Since then, I've talked about it nonstop to everyone I know. At last my translation is out from Wave Books, and you can order your copy now—or, better yet, ask for it at your local bookstore until it appears on shelves there.

Men killed by mules (part two of two)

Muhammad ibn Harun, brother of the gifted poet and writer Sahl ibn Harun, rode a mule that bolted underneath him in a panic. This happened in broad daylight, in the quadrangle by the Gate of ‘Uthman [ibn Abi 'l-‘As, in Basra]. They say that in the commotion, Muhammad's abdomen was lacerated by a saddle-strap, and that he died on the animal's back—and that his mule collided with another, killing both animals together with their riders.

It was reported to me by Sa‘id ibn Abi Malik that a stablehand belonging to one of the land grant holders [of Rabi‘ ibn Yunus, in Basra] used to copulate with his master's she-mule. One day, while he was in the act, the mule retreated backward to increase his thrusting power, until he was pressed into a corner of the stable where he was crushed to death. Another servant came to the stable on some errand and, finding it barred from inside, called out his fellow's name. Hearing no answer, he wrenched open the door to find the stablehand squashed into the corner, with the mule pressing back against him still. At his cry, the mule stepped away, and the body fell down dead.
      Some have opined that, even though the active role in their coupling was played by the stablehand, the true aggressor was the mule, who used to lick her lips every time she saw him, and no one else. If assault wasn't her intent, then he was killed in retribution or self defense.

These verses are from a satire by Qays ibn Yazid, in which he accused Ibn Abi Sabra of fornicating with his own mule (meter: kāmil):

      I'm told the mule you dote on
          gets restless when you don't screw her.
      She lowers her rump and swings it toward you
          when over the manger wall she sees you coming

They say that when the poet al-Farazdaq was captured by a group of Banu Kulayb, they brought a she-ass and said, "Either fornicate with this animal, as you accused ‘Atiyya ibn al-Khatafi [father to the poet Jarir] of doing, or we kill you." Al-Farazdaq said, "In that case, bring me the rock ‘Atiyya stood on when he shtupped her, so I can accomplish the same." They all laughed at his wit, and let him go.

Another man killed by mules was Zayd ibn Hulq, whose job it was to train them. His sons are famous at Basra. Also killed by mules were Muhammad ibn Sa‘id ibn Hazim al-Mazini and his uncle, ‘Amr ibn Haddab, killed by a mule at Shushtar. Al-Muhallab ibn Abi Sufra died on muleback at al-Talaqan. Iyas ibn Hubayra al-‘Abshami, who once paid bloodwit, also died on the back of a mule, a mean one.

From The Book of Mules by al-Jahiz

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 ceilings weep back out of one 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, looming over me
          like a stormcloud gushing.
      When its clay [takes on water and] weighs it down,
          its edges creak like chirping crickets.

From A Well-Tended 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 (part one of two)

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 on.
     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,
     his clashing teeth chirp 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 (meter: rajaz)