Some Observations on Arabic Poetry Author(s): Jaroslaw Stetkevych Reviewed work(s): Source: Journal of Near Eastern Studies, Vol.

26, No. 1 (Jan., 1967), pp. 1-12 Published by: The University of Chicago Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/543518 . Accessed: 05/05/2012 06:44
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JOURNAL OF

Near

Eastern

Studies
EIGHTY-FOURTHYEAR

JANUARY 1967 * VOLUME 26 * NUMBER I

SOMEOBSERVATIONS ARABICPOETRY ON
JAROSLA W STE TKEVYCH, Universityof Chicago

THEbook under consideration1 represents a somewhat hasty rubbing on the Aladdin lamp of Arabic poetry. Nevertheless, as an attempt to conjure the old, almost forgotten by western Arabism,jinni, it is not altogether unimportant. From the didactic point of view it may well fulfil its restricted mission. Above all, however, its appearance helps to keep alive the flickering flame of that magic lamp whose light draws now only elegiac shadows of regret, of nostalgia and, as it were, of bothered conscience on our crowded wall of scholarly Arabism. It would be quite reasonable to assume that our colleagues and students in Arabic studies have at some more or less early stage of their lives passed through a romantic phase, a phase in which it had seemed so natural and self-justifiable to want to become an Arabist. It is also safe to assume that many of them had been tempted into this particular field by vague presentiments of mysterious wisdom and rare delights of an "Oriental"culture all wrapped up in a splendid literary attire. Once enrolled as a student at a privileged university which with full pride displays its list of offerings in Arabic studies, the tender romantic soul of the young initiate receives its first taste of the Koranic cadences and cascading magnificence of ancient Arabian poetry in the magic formula of qatala-yaqtulu. Ultimate fulfilment seems so near then, .. . Several years later, however, the young adept, still a bohemian on the outside, but inwardly already a sophisticated man of the world, graduates as an expert on land tenure in nineteenth century Iraq. With a lifetime career of conferences ahead of him, he rides comfortably on the crest of the wave of success into academia or elsewhere. The old dreams of aesthetic discovery he now terms youthful fancies merely. He is not ashamed of them, however. Like a flower in the lapel of a well-presseddinner jacket, they are good to wear. Such is not necessarily the life-story of every Arabist, but to a fair share of us it applies nevertheless. Maybe, therefore, maybe out of a feeling of loss of innocence, out of sheer nostalgia, a new book on Arabic literature is always something of an event in our circles. It is bought if rarely read. Just for the touch of it. In general terms, therefore, Professor Arberry'snew book on Arabic poetry will certainly receive a warm reception. In isolated cases it may even reach the class-room and thus fulfil its mission as an introductory
1 A review article devoted to Arabic Poetry: A Primer for Students. By A. J. ARBERRY. Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press, 1965. Pp. v + 175. $6.50.

STUDIES JOURNAL NEAREASTERN OF

guide to the mysteries of that "gardenclosed to many," using the metaphor of a Spanish poet from Granada. Professor Arberry'sis a slender book which nevertheless must have imposed a certain rigor on its author, even if it be not much more than the rigor of translation. The book contains a fairly long (27 pages) introductory essay. The rest consists of 31 selected and chronologically arranged poems-with the Arabic text and the English version handily facing each other-ranging from pre-Islamic times until the practically contemporary Macrfif al-Rusrifi(1945), and of an excessively concise appendix with bibliographicalnotes. The introductory essay is disappointingly unoriginal. In it the author may even be underestimating the intellectual inquisitiveness of a truly motivated student. It begins with a series of classical quotations from such authorities as Gibb, Nicholson, and Lyall, in the fashion of a synopsis of the existing view on the origins and nature of classical Arabic poetry, a synopsis which the author concludes with a rather discouraging statement that "it is most unlikely that more than this will ever be known, saving some miraculous discovery in the unexplored caves of Arabia of an Arabic counterpart of the Dead Sea Scrolls" (p. 3). Whereas it is true that decisive additional documentary information on the earliest period of Arabic literature should hardly be anticipated, a critical and linguistic study of that literature, as it is available now, should still be capable of yielding further internal data. This aspect of inquiry cannot be declared a closed chapter so easily, since, whatever has been done in this respect thus far should rather seem to be a beginning-a first step only. In some way this also hangs together with the author's statement that "the theory that all, or most, pre-Islamic poetry is a forgery has now been generally abandoned" (p. 4, footnote). This theory is thus being abandoned even more lightly (much more so) than it had been embraced,since there were no meaningful corroboratingstudies done in this respect. Mere declarations of preference for one view or another do not advance the solution of that interesting problem. Furthermore, if this latter problem were duly investigated with the use of all our historical, linguistic, and critical tools, maybe such an investigation would also illuminate and strengthen, or eventually modify, our views on the origins of Arabic poetry. over the qaidah, or vice versa, The problem of chronological priority of the a lesser which the author reviews briefly, is perhaps of qi.t.ah importance than is generally being assumed. It will be helpful to remember that one of the early Arabic literary critics, al-Ja$hiz,terms this type of poem al-qasidah al-qairah instead.2 The term is etymologically misleading, and therefore it lends itself to being erroneously qit.ah as part of the standard qasidah as the latter appears in the definition of Ibn viewed Qutaybah, a definition which in its fulness applies to a relatively small part of the earliest Arabic poetry, and whose observance in the later poetic development lacks the proverbial rigor one so readily accepts to be a matter of fact. It is rather a formal abstraction, attested, as far as it is possible to judge on the basis of the preserved staple of early poetry, by relatively few clear examples. The rest of Arabic poetry can be forced into the pattern of that definition only as a sum total of composites to which an abstract common denominator is then applied in a manner which treats all of classical Arabic poetry as a generic mass which should be manipulated and ordered from the outside rather than from within each individual poem.
Al-Hayawdn (Cairo, 1938), III, 98.

SOME OBSERVATIONSARABIC ON POETRY

It is quite obvious that by and large the selections contained in Absf Tammam's anthology, for example, are fragments. It is not necessarily true, however, that they had ever formed part of conventionally structured qaidah-poems. The same can be said about similar fragmentary poetry contained in the Aghdini.In a literary situation of oral transmission, the small poem must have had its natural place, without precluding the cultivation of grander genres. The discussion of the Arabic poem in Professor Arberry's Introduction does overlook one important aspect which could be connected with the existence of smaller forms. The only distinction he makes concerningthe nature of the Arabic poem is between the large qagdah and the fragmentary poem, as if no further classification were possibleparticularly what we should call classification into genres. Without this further differentiation, not only the formal questions in Arabic poetry will remain obscure, but the very selections which the author offers to the student of Arabic poetry will be an amorphous conglomerate of verse, with its chronological arrangement giving the impression of a mere accident. What one must not forget in attempting to put some order into the development of Arabic poetry is the existence within it, from earliest times onwards, of a thematic and genre differentiation. The thematic diversity of classical Arabic poetry does not constitute separate genres, however. In a variety of combinationsthe basic poetic themes are only integrated and structured into the various types of Arabic poetry, which can be descriptive, heroic, erotic, satyrical, and elegiac. For the most part descriptive poetry, too, does not constitute a genre category. It can be found in all the remaining types, and it reflects a poem's style rather than its genre. Viewing the various types of Arabic poetry which reveal a formal differentiation,we see that structurally the heroic poem can be either simple or complex. The simple form is best represented by the shorter or longer odes of the so-called brigand poets, with their remarkable unity of theme and mood. The highly rhetorical panegyrics of later periods, like those of :Abu Tammam and al-Mutanabbi, although showing an independent development, are structurally simple or, to be more precise, unified as well. The complex heroic ode is the most common genre in pre-Islamic and early Islamic poetry. It is profusely illustrated in the Mufaddalydt and the DAsmaciydt.At first it is less strictly a panegyric in the usual sense, and its two basic elements are the erotic prelude and the Bedouin self-praise. Both the descriptive and the pathetic rhetorical styles dominate its mood and diction. With great frequency the erotic and the properly heroic sections are in an intended antithetical relation to each other. The antithesis of mood and the contrasting statement of the poet's condition in each section serve to heighten the heroic exaltation of the poet as hero. Most of Arabic heroic poetry is therefore highly subjectivized and thus essentially different from the Greek and medieval European heroic poetry in its epic form. This difference,too, more than that of length and more than the nature of Arabic prosody, should be viewed as underlying the limitations of Arabic poetry with regard to a fuller development of genres. Because of its structural involvement in the other genres, classical Arabic erotic poetry submits at first more easily to the unity of theme rather than to that of genre. Its lyricism tends to be descriptive rather than spontaneously emotional. It is highly sensual, ranging in mood from unfulfilled yearning to carefree erotic infatuationin the style of the C Udhri poets as well as in that of cUmar ibnDAbi Rabicah. In the

JOURNAL OF NEAR EASTERN STUDIES

independent poem, largely in its later development, Arabic erotic poetry chooses the small form. Within the austerely realistic language and imagery of classical Arabic poetry, it contributed greatly to the enrichment of the metaphor, since it was most receptive to the which advanced the developbaroque involution of the Arabic poetic diction of the badiC ment of the poetic image from the concrete to the conceptual and abstract. It also provided the vehicle for the symbolic poetry of Arabic mysticism. Yet at the same time it failed to produce a fully structured form which would be different from the structure it receives when it functions as a component of a complex qapidah.In this latter respect it not only can serve as prelude to other themes in the form of a nasib section: its language and imagery can reappear indirectly in the elegy or in the panegyric-so characteristic in al-Mutanabbi--or it can become fully merged, in language and form, with the mystical poem. It can also be used organically (i.e. not as a loose prelude) in the satire, as when the Umayyad poet al-'Arji lays false pretenses to the favors of the women of his enemies. In theme and language it thus proved to be the most pliable and submissive of the poetic genres. It in itself, however, could absorb and still survive generically, only such extrinsic elements as nature description and sententious poetry. Nevertheless, one should not forget that even within a complex qaidah, the erotic section may often constitute the chief element, to which self-praise and panegyric are only appended, as if against the poet's will. In such cases the inorganic character of the Arabic qaszdah becomes much more accentuated, since the poem then lacks the balance and harmony dictated by the aesthetic canon of sound structure, no matter how conventional that structure may appear. The Arabic satyrical poem, like the heroic ode, can be either simple or complex. That means, it may or may not have a prelude of an erotic nature. Otherwise it is closely related to the heroic ode by virtue of the frequent contrasting of the satire with the themes of self-praise and tribal panegyric. Satire finds its form of expression in political poetry too, be it in connection with the religious and dynastic partisanships, or otherwise as a mirror of the shucibyah. Among the Arabic poetic genres the elegy is perhaps the most interesting as well as the most challenging one to the critic. From an early simplicity of mood, theme, and structure, it developed into one of the most advanced poetic forms (if such a thing as advancement can be said to exist in art). By virtue of its dominant mood of bereavement and sadness it was destined to a higher degree of formal unity. The cathartic impact of tragedy and the melancholy of sorrow which issued from it involved the Arab poet more directly in his theme, producing those glimpses of true poetic experience which are so rare in a poetry otherwise highly form-oriented and conventionalized in theme and diction. The Arabic elegy can be structurally very rich and complex, without necessarily suffering from disruption into unrelated topical sections in the manner of other Arabic poetic genres. The elegiac use of the theme of evocation of desolate encampments is different from the use made of the same theme within the nasib. The function of the theme of nightly loneliness and star gazing is equally legitimate within both genres, the erotic and the elegiac, and it may even be originally elegiac. The heroic theme, too, blends harmoniously with the poet's sadness, as the fierce promise of revenge was part of the Bedouin feeling of bereavement. Philosophical poetry, or rather the philosophical mood, blends perhaps most harmoniously with its elegiac cousin. Poetic description of

SOME OBSERVATIONS ON ARABIC POETRY

inanimate nature receives in the elegy a less objective quality and functions organically within the determining mood of the poem. Arabic elegiac style and diction can and often do range, inside a single poem, from low key melancholy to high rhetorical pathos. A distinctive feature of the latter style is the grouping of verses which begin alike, or which even repeat the entire first hemistich throughout a series of verses, into a single unit of emotional "crescendo." From alMuhalhil ibn Rabicah and al-Khansa' until the present day this psalmodic reiteration has continued to characterize the style of the Arabic elegy. It would be oversimplified, however, to regard this reiterative style as elegiac only. Basically it is a rhetorical device and therefore it is used effectively in all types of poetry, whenever the poet aims at rhetorical heightening of the emotional pitch. Quite characteristically, one of the most effective uses of this style is to be found in the Koran.3 cAmr ibn Kulthfim uses it in the heroic mood4 and Zuhayr ibn Abi Sulm& in the satyrical.5 As a rhetorical device this style is also universal, and its use reaches a large variety of poetic moods and modes. It is only the marriage of rhetoric and lyricism that makes it most effective in the elegy, in the manner of the classical ubi sunt, where Frangois Villon and Ibn al-Rfmimspeak in unison, where Sir Walter Scott psalmodizes in a familiar tone: There, through the summer day, Cool streams are laving; There, while the tempests sway, Scarce are boughs waving; There thy rest shalt thou take, Parted forever, Never again to wake, Never, O never! (Marmion) Similarly, this style is also represented in western poetry in its heroic mood, as in Blake's: Bring me my Bow of burning gold! Bring me my Arrows of desire! Bring me my Spear! O clouds unfold! Bring me my Chariot of fire! (The Book of Hell) Or in the pristine lyricism of Goethe: Herz, mein Herz, was soll das geben? Was bedraenget dich so sehr? Welch ein fremdes neues Leben! Ich erkenne dich nicht mehr. Weg ist alles, was du liebtest, Weg, warum du dich betruebtest, Weg dein Fleiss und deine RuhAch, wie kamst du nur dazu! Or in the invective outburst of Shakespeare: Thou makest the vestall violate her oath, Thou blowest the fire when temperance is thawd, Thou smoothest honestie, thou murtherest troth, Thou fowle abettor, thou notorious bawd, Thou plantest scandall, and displacest lawd. Thou ravisher, thou traytor, thou false theefe, Thy honie turnes to gall, thy joy to greefe. (The Rape of Lucrece)
3Suras 81, 82; see G. E. von Grunebaum, Kritik
und Dichtkunst,

4 Mucallaqah, vss. 76-79.

p. 35.

6L. Cheikho, Shu ar4c al-Naipraniyah 1920), pp. 562-63.

(Beirut,

JOURNAL OF NEAR EASTERN STUDIES

One of the most interesting developments within the Arabic elegy is its turning to history personifiedin dynasties and monuments, to the city, and finally to the land as the elegiac object. In al-Buhturi's poem on the 'Iwdn Kisrd we find samples of the first topic. A more immediate reflection of tragic historical events is the elegy on the destruction of Baghdad during the Abbasid dynastic strife, by 'Abfi Yacqfib Ishaiqal-Khuzaymi, and, of course, Ibn al-Rfimi's elegy on Basra. A further development of this elegiac topic takes place in Moorish Spain, where one could say that it and the classical Arabic elegy culminate with Abfi al-Baqa' al-Rundi's (second half of thirteenth century) mourning over the loss of an entire land and heritage. Later additions to al-Rundi's elegy are only an epilogue to a genre. With the last sigh of "Ay de mi Alhama," a Romance echo of this mood dies on the lips of a Spanish balladier.6 After this review of things which are not in Professor Arberry's book, let us now turn to the ones that are. The remainingpart of the Introduction contains an exposition of the rules of Arabic prosody, an illustration of the richness of variations of some representative macdni or poetic motives, and a review of the rhetorical figuresthat characterizethe full development of the Arabic art of rhetoric-the so-called al-badic, a term which originally had this technical meaning of a new theory of rhetoric and which in a popular fashion only received the connotation of a style. It should be clear by now that the reviewer, in striding out so far in his digressions, has usurped for himself the right to think aloud on whatever comes to his mind as he reads the book in front of him; and this time what bothers him is the value of a merely theoretical approach to Arabic prosody. We seem to forget that we do not read Arabic poetry. We translate it and leave matters at that. The same is true of our learning and teaching of the Arabic language as a whole. In such circumstances Arabic prosody and particularly metrics become a completely abstract science, divorced from the sound of the language and irrelevant even to the task of correct translation, once the text has been properly edited and reasonably vocalized. Since the student is not encouraged, as seems to be the rule and practice, to reproduce the sound and the metric cadence of an Arabic verse, his familiarity with the theory of metrics only will not improve his understanding of poetry, let alone his appreciation of it, and "the arabesque of words and rhythms which is so great a pleasure for the informed critic to analyse," will remain but a myth to him. Within our petrified attitude to Arabic poetry the science of metrics will be of practical value to editors of texts only, as it can be a helpful tool in securing a proper "textual" reading of a verse in manuscript. But such is not the reason why poetry has a metre. Therefore,even though it is difficult to dispute-as far as scientific precision is concerned-the merit of abstract representation of the Arabic metric units, the more concrete, traditionally Arabic system of the tafdcil representation may be more organic and in the final run more productive a way to stimulate in a student of Arabic poetry a sense of rhythm and melody, without which all the theoretical precision in the world will remain dead and meaningless. A poetic verse needs to be read as only poetry needs to be read, and its mathematical units and numbers are made of a different stuff than the cerebralabstractions of mathematics as a science. Whatever has been said above concerning the topic of Arabic metrics must not be a
6 A review of the Arab critics' understanding of the poetic genres can be seen in Amjad Trabulsi's La critique podtique des arabes (Damascus, pp. 215-38. 1956),

SOME OBSERVATIONS ON ARABIc POETRY

criticism of anything nor anybody in particular. It is rather a brooding over the painful fact that our feet are lame and heavy as they walk this field of our choice and not of our making, and that no matter how neatly we pin on our artificial wings of aesthetic sophistication, we do not seem to be getting off the ground. The author's discussion of the two remaining topics (the poetic motives and the rhetorical figures), although invariably, and at this advanced point monotonously, reused from older books, should be intrinsically very useful. It is particularly important that a student of Arabic poetry should be an alert detector of figures of speech, since these constitute a substantial share of the Arab poet's technical equipment. But this is fully valid for the later development of Arabic poetry only, when the badiCenrichment of Arabic rhetoric finds its way into the poetic practice. The interest in the poetic macdni is in this respect an older one. It grows out of the entire Arabic natural and social environment and thus out of a particular innate concept of imagination. The virtuosity of Ibn al-Farid in this field, however, is once again a late development, conceivable in that poet's period only. Neither the badic rhetoric nor the parallel over-exploitation of otherwise basic poetic motives throw a definitive light on the nature of Arabic poetry. The fact that already the early poets took great pain in proper composition should become self-evident from even a hurried look at the impressively disciplined classical poem. But this does not diminish the artistic value of Arabic poetry. The concept of poetic creation as pure inspiration is an offshoot of western romanticism, with which it also dies. Otherwisethere would be no room for symbolist or "purepoetry," for Mallarm6 or Juan Ramon Jimenez. The concept of controlled inspiration, and even of inspiration in the unrestricted sense, was never completely absent from Arabic poetic practice and theory, however. what is poetry, the poet Thus, when the Prophet asks the poet CAbdal-LAhb. Raw is uttered by my tongue."7 responds: "It is something that throbs in my bosom and .hah The Andalusian poet Ibn Shuhayd, a contemporaryof Ibn HIazm,construes an imaginary conversation with 'Abi^ Tammam, in which that representative of high badiC advises him not to interfere with his natural talent if he should feel the compulsion to compose poetry and when his soul would summon him to it. Then, after having completed his composition, he should wait at least three days before undertaking a revision.8 It is true that opposite views on poetic creation abound in Arabic literary criticism as well, but they come mostly from non-poets and from rather sterile quarters of rhetorical and philological criticism. Professor Arberry's well-wrought but very-often-heard-before statement that "the Arab poet is rather to be considered,and judged, as a craftsman like other craftsmen, a goldsmith of words, a jeweller of verbal images" (p. 17), should not be taken with the same conviction the author himself has put into it. Some discrimination as to its chronologicalvalidity, to say the least, should be attempted. Creative talent, inspiration, originality, the lyrical sense, or poetic experience, all these are complicated problems in Arabic literature. Their reduction to a capsule definition, however, has proven to be as tempting as it may seem easy, if one uses the statistical approach of the average or if one limits oneself to an arbitrarily chosen period. A juster and more productive approach to the Arab poets' attitudes to these problems would be one which would avoid the average as something whose relevance is more sociological than aesthetic, and which would situate the Arabic poetic endeavor in the proper frame
7 Al-clqd al-Farid (Cairo, 1956), V, 283. 8 Al-Tawabic wa al-Zawdbic (Beirut, 1951), p. 136.

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of reference of an historically defined cultural atmosphere with its intellectual concerns and aesthetics of taste. Within such a frame of referencewe see the Arab poet as cherishing both inborn talent and artifice. We see him proud of both, and we see his critics was attributed to some poets judging him on both accounts. The quality of being nm.tbi2 to the exclusion of others-among the pre-Islamic poets as well as among those of later centuries and epochs. Unfortunately the reasons for such discrimination are not satisfactorily explained in critical terms. Only a quotation of one verse or another is produced as illustrating testimony of a supposedly complex critical motivation. Imagination as a creative poetic factor does not appear separately spelled out or even recognized as an abstract concept broad enough to be given this particular literary interpretation. The only form of imagination known to classical Arabic literary criticism even at its highest point of development was that of a pictorial conjuring of metaphorical allusions to otherwise concrete or realistically conceivable things. The Arab poet's imagination, therefore, was more clearly manifested, or rather referredto, as fancy in the Coleridgean sense, an organizing faculty rather than a creative one. But then, again, it would be erroneous to search for this type of conceptualization of the creative process and for the awareness of a higher form of imagination so completely outside of the proper historical and philosophical context. In western literature and critical thought such an awareness did not appear until after Kant, with Schelling and Coleridge, and in comparison with al-Qahir anything prior to that period in the West, such Arab critics as al-'Dmidi, CAbd al-Jurjani or Ibn al-'Athir loom up as true pioneers towards our present understandingof the nature and the mechanism of literary expression. Poetic inspiration was known to exist and was referred to in two ways, both familiar to the western view of it: one as an undefined feeling surging in the poet's own soul and the other as mythicized personificationof the creative impulse coming to the poet as his shay~tn, from without. It is interesting to notice that in the later Abbasid period as well as in Moorish Spain the archaic idea of the poetic shaytdn reappears in Arabic poetry already fully transformed and deprived of its archaic pathos, and becomes very much analogous to the renaissance view of the poetic muse. The problem of originality in Arabic poetry needs a particularly dispassionate or or even tarif, do not imply originalapproach. Arabic terms like hadith, mu~hdath jadid, ity in a creative sense. Ibtikdr,reflecting a modern semantic development, does not help us either. The closest classical Arabic equivalent to our concept of the original would be badic,had it not soon acquired a different, more specific meaning within the terminology of Arabic literary criticism. Just as these positive terms do not provide us with a clear definition of originality, so the negative terms like sariqahand intihdl, too, fail to give us a convincing idea of what is unoriginal-save in the grossest form of plagiarism. And yet the extraordinary interest which Arabic literary criticism displays in the problem of plagiarism should nevertheless indicate a deep concern precisely with originality. Thus it seems as if Arabic literary criticism, having failed to formulate an aesthetics of the original, had turned with double zeal to the detection and definition of its opposite. This negative critical zeal quite clearly characterizes Arabic literary criticism in all its aspects and, while it may have had a useful function in an attempt to check ruthless plagiarism, it also taught the Arab poet to seek refuge in complicated disguises rather than reveal his literary parentage openly, motivating it aesthetically. Above all, however, one should keep in mind that the aesthetics of originality is a

ON POETRY SOMEOBSERVATIONS ARABIC

modern notion, a notion which can only exist in a time and in a culture which is not normatively bound to an ideal of perfection lying in the past. Such is the case with modern western culture, for example. The quick succession of schools and aesthetic premises which began with European romanticism is essentially a development dispossessed of an ideal canon lying in the past. Classicism to us, the generations of the flashing "isms," retains only a mythic quality as far as our views of beauty are concerned. We do not attempt to equal it, because it ceased to be the determiningideal of our artistic endeavor: it ceased to be a purpose. To the renaissance man, however, the classic ideal was alive as a purpose. Therefore the renaissance artist imitated, and his baroque heir improvised on his predecessor's imitation. Categorical originality to them was no prerequisiteof artistic validity. The aesthetic canon of the preterit ideal, although broken or misunderstood in artistic practice, remained unchallenged in theory. Within such an attitude the realm of originality became forcibly reduced to a definite set of aesthetic premises. Within it, too, craftsmanship or the artistic technique was bound to receive special emphasis. Of course, the renaissance still strikes us as an original and exciting movement in the arts, mainly because it supposes a rediscovery of classical aesthetic ideals and not their uninterrupted linear continuation, and also because it generated an unparallelled outburst of individual genius. Had the classical code been handed down directly from the antiquity and upheld throughout the European middle ages, it would soon have ended up totally exhausted, and the excitement and creative ferment of rediscovery-psychologically so much more romantic than classicist-would have never existed, as they did not exist in eighteenth century neo-classicism and academicism. Returning to the Arabic literary example, we may now attempt to understand why Arabic poetry was so "unoriginal"according to the modern understanding of this term, and why it laid so much weight on the technical accomplishment. Having inherited its own classical ideal of literary perfection, and having developed inside a medieval culture of set values, Arabic poetry could not outrun its own shadow. Thus it went on cultivating a basically classicist tradition, one where the aesthetic ideal and the formal canon this ideal meant to imply were lying in the past. As a result, rather than to be original and thus depart even further from the ideal, Arabic poetry had to be interested in perfection as a means of formal approximation to a goal from which time was separating it more and more. It is in such a light also that one should re-examine what D'Ahmad 'Amin called "the crime perpetrated by pre-Islamic poetry against Arabic literature."g As the reader's patience should not be tested beyond the limit of endurance, a comparatively hurried look at the anthological section of Professor Arberry'sbook will have to suffice. It is almost a critical norm that no reviewer is ever entirely satisfied with what makes a particular anthology. Let us not establish an exception, therefore. An anthology whose purpose is pedagogical should instruct and stimulate interest at the same time. The present one, however, instructs without particularly minding whether the student, once initiated in Arabic poetry, will care to maintain his interest. It instructs philologically and rhetorically. The rest, which is about all that matters, as far as the furthering of a deeper interest in Arabic poetry is concerned, is left to the student. Something of this
A.l-Thaqdfah, Vol. I, No. 19, pp. 6-10; ibid., Vol. 1, No. 21, pp. 5-9.

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has already been intimated in our discussion of the genre-differentiationin Arabic poetry. To begin with, no critical questions raised in the Introduction are fully answered by the verse selections. Thus we fail to find among the poems in the anthology a single one which would convincingly illustrate Ibn Qutaybah's definition of the qaspdah.Only selections No. 2 (al-Nabighah), No. 8 (Abfi al-'AtThiyah)and No. 29 (Shawqi), with their extremely lopsided structure, have any relation to it at all. The overall approach to the selecting and the listing of the poems is dry and impersonal, without revealing any valid line of taste of the anthologist, or any meaningful development taking place in Arabic poetry. Maybe one interest of the author can be detected, however, and that is in poetry as an historical and political commentary. Because of this, Mihyhral-Daylami's otherwise solid poetic talent is poorly represented by selection No. 16, Khalil Matran (No. 30) creates the impressionof being but an average patriotic versifier,and al-Rusaifi(No. 31)with more justification-a journalist in verse. Maybe because of this, too, the longest poem of the entire anathology is al-Shidydq's grotesque ode to Queen Victoria (No. 27) which Professor Arberry somehow manages to find "a very interesting example of the nineteenth-century revival of the classical norms" (p. 137). To be sure, the reviewer has a great sympathy and admiration for al-Shidyaq, but he also has some loyalty to Arabic poetry. Concerningthe quality of the translations, there is relatively little to say. Professor Arberry is certainly the most dedicated and experienced translator of Arabic verse into English to-day. A few remarks or suggestions might be called for, however. Thus, in the poem by al-Samaw'al (No. 1), vs. 5, jdr may not be understood as kinsman but rather as neighbor under protection. The real problem, however, is with al2-aktharina, which appears translated as "the most part of men". This is wrong, because al-aktharina can only be properly understood contextually, with reference to the meaning of cannd here are not "the most part of men," but "those who are qalilun. Therefore al-.aktharina very many in number." Only then will the entire verse have a convincing meaning. The second hemistich of vs. 10 lacks precision as well. IHaythuis to be understood as well as grammatically. The first hemistich of vs. 18 receives the easy yet doubtful reading of "Our 'days' are famous among our foes." Instead, one should understand it according to the expression land yawmun ft al-'ac dd'i. The hemistich would then mean: "Our 'days' against our enemy are famous," i.e.: what we have done to our enemies is famous. In the poem by al-Nabighah (No. 2) the rendering of the second half of vs. 7 neglects the specific meaning of dhllika. The footnote which explains this verse is misleading too. Literally translated, the poet says in this hemistich: "you did not consider them to be sinning in their gratitude for it." In context with the preceding verse, the poet thus wants to say that Nucmin should not blame him for having been grateful to his former patron, just as he (Nucmin) did not find any fault in the gratitude his own proteg6es expressed to him. In the poem by al-KhanstA(No. 4) the reading ghayrakhawwdri vs. 6 does not agree in with the translation. Such a reading is possible, only that then murakkabanft nisdbin would gain a differentmeaning. The translator, obviously, understoodthe verse according to the standard reading ghayri khawwdri. In the poem by Bashshshkribn Burd (No. 6), vs. 4 resists the translator'sunderstanding of it. Fa tacazzaytu... introducesan independentsentenceand shouldbe translated: "There"wherever." In vs. 12 "females and stallions who bore us . . ." is incorrect logically as

SOME OBSERVATIONS ON ARABIC POETRY

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fore I consoled myself . .." This will also alter the punctuation of the preceding verses. The note to vs. 1 of the poem by 'Abuial-'Atahiyah (No. 8) which says that "the poet laments in Jahili fashion the ruins of a former 'encampment' is misleading. There is no archaic lamentation here. What the poet gives us is a recollection of a gay excursion to rather bucolic places where the ruins are merely decorative. He laments the briefness of the time spent there and not the decaying romantic sites. As such it is rather a new theme
appearing in the matla'. Verses 8 and 9 in this poem have to be understood in context.

Thereforethe adjective ghartrdoes not mean "shy." There is an antiposition of meaning, or like a paradox, between these two verses. The inexperienced (ghartr),naive fawn is in a deceptive fashion instrumental to the extraction of secrets through the power of the wine. The word gawmin vs. 8 is not simply people. In various contexts it can refer either to tribesmen, to fighting men, or to a group, as in the present case. as The translation of hdudui "rest" in vs. 12 of the same poem, is too noncommittal. Because of the familiar traditional situation given by the verses that follow, hudi~ refers to a stage of night. In the poem by 'AbfI Tammam (No. 9), the translation of vs. 6 represents perhaps too confident a reliance on al-Tibrlzi. Other commentaries do not agree with such an interpretation. In any case, the translator does not take into account the acc. in cajd"iban, for which there is no place in his version: "Marvels they alleged the days would reA reasonable translation seems to be: "Marvels would there be! The days, ....." they alleged, would take fright from them in the Safar of all Safars or Rajab." Concerning veal

vs. 66, the translator chooses to follow al-Tibrizi as well but without accepting that This is confusing. Granting the commentator's reading of 'atrdban instead of Dabddnan. of jinds, one should still understand the verse as referring to the swords requirements being plunged into the bodies of the enemies rather than returned into their sheaths. The jinds appears only as a further allusion or connotation, of which one word can have several, and the more such connotation it has, the more useful it becomes poetically. In al-Buhturi's poem (No. 11), maca al-'akhassiof vs. 5 cannot be translated al-aakhassi as "towards the ignoblest of the ignoble." The second al-'akhassi stands in apposition to the first one, implying further emphasis. The suggestion of a construct will only puzzle the student, since precisely concerning this verse there is no explanatory note. Grama matically this construction could be understood either as the first al-aakhassibeing substantive and the second its adjective, or as an emphatic reiteration of a type formally related to al-Sharif fihi al-.acazzu al-'a~habbu (No. 15, vs. 13). In vs. 7 "and then" should ratheral-R.di's: In vs. 11 rahli can also mean "camel saddle," without be "lest." substantially affecting the understanding of the line. "You are alarmed," in vs. 22, fails to convey the right connotation. "Filled with awe" should be better. In vs. 26, instead
of "cautiously ...," one should read "diligently (or strongly) advancing . ..." Since

mushhprovokes the reaction of mulh., they should convey opposing actions proper of a battle. CAldal-'askarayni in vs. 29 should be understood as "in view of ...." The translator's "over" is flat. Verses 31 and 32 appear blurred in the translation. VIdhd... (when or as it gives fresh pleasure) of vs. 31 should have been retained, and vs. 32 should
then begin "That it is poured into ...." The rendering of the second hemistich of vs. 35

is completely meaningless as an image. The reviewer has nothing positive to offer either, but at least in a case like this, the students should be warned that any translation is a mere guess. Other existing attempts at renderingthis hemistich are equally unsuccessful.

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The second half of vs. 46 might well be understood differently: "consisting of (min) men standing (wuqtfin) behind the throng and of camels able to endure thirst (khunsi). The translator's note concerning the interpretation of verses 48 and 49 is wrong. In these verses the poet wants to say that the evocation of the past is so strong and so immediate that (vs. 49) one could almost think of overtaking it. Only in vs. 50 does the "passing of dynasties" theme come up. In the poem by al-Mutanabbi(No. 13), lahd in vs. 12 is a misprint. The correct reading is limd. Verse 15 would be better understood if, instead of the semicolon after "arbiters," there were a colon, with the second hemistich following as a general statement or verdict, applicable absolutely. The entire verse sounds rather like a proverb. In vs. 26 "as victory advanced" is not exact, since wa al-nasru qddimudenotes result or effect, and should thus be translated: "and victory has come," or "came." The second half of vs. 38, although correctly interpreted in the note, is not renderedforcefully enough. The statement in this verse is an absolute one: "but one who escaped from you being despoiled is a spoiler," or "... has gained booty indeed." Al-cawdsimin vs. 40 can hardly be translated as "capitals," particularly with referenceto Sayf al-Dawlah. In vs. 41, "Yours is the praise in regard to the pearl which I spit out" is excessively archaic and inadmissible, because it does not take notice of the true metaphor contained in this hemistich. Here the poet compares Sayf al-Dawlah's exploits to a pearl and himself, his poetic gift, to the wave which throws that pearl ashore (lafazahu).Of course, the conventional metaphoricusage of "pearl"as the component part of the poem, with lafazaas "to utter," is self-understood. In the poem by 'AbiuFirAs(No. 14), vs. 19 has been completely misunderstood by the translator. Its meaning will become quite clear as we come to vs. 23, where'and al-jdru calayhimutakes us back to jandbu. Verse 19 should thus be read: "The d1zddi ba~t.un there is no place with regard to me to look for profit, nor quarter for and nights pass, petititioners to turn to." The translation of the poem by al-Sharif is on the whole uneven. Verse 6 should probably be read as a question, in context with vs. 7. The question in vs. 11 is a al-Rd.i rhetorical one, and therefore 'illd should not be rendered as "except." In vs. 19, instead of wa kayfa, the reading wa is to be preferred. The verse would then cease to be .iaythu interrogative and would follow along the descriptive line of vs. 18. The excessively formalistic rendering of jardthfm as "deep-rooted trunks," makes vs. 23 unintelligible. In order to make the syntax of vs. 47 more convincing, instead of ramidun ramf.dan should be preferable (as in the ed. of Muhammad Muhiy al-Din CAbdal-Hamid, Cairo, 1949). The translation of vs. 65 contains an obvious absurdity. Here the meaning of Dujinnacan only be "buried" (for "hidden" or "deposited"). In the poem by Mihydral-Daylami (No. 16), the contextual relationship of vss. 38, 39 to vs. 37 seems to be lacking coherence, although the translator's phrasing is ambiguous enough so as to cause some difficulty in disentangling his own understanding of the vss. 38 and 39. With some tailoring, the meaning of vs. 39 (the clearly misunderstood one) can be restored, however. Thus, one should rather read: "Nor would a beautiful woman (dropping "be") secure the whole of her life from some evil eye, be (instead of "being") in need of amulets." There should still be a few minor observations to make concerningone or another of the remaining translations, but the reviewer is too anxious to abandon this course of criticism which he sincerely wishes had been avoidable.