The Djinni’s Song
by Rev. Joe Kelly
When the summer moon at night has set
and the Rub’ al Khali’s black as pitch,
black as the deep oblivion
which broods behind the twinkling stars;
When the freezing winds of desert night
batter and bellow upon the tents
of the Beduin, huddled all together
in fear of the denizens of the dark,
Then do the djinn howl through the night,
howl to promise foul delights;
and he, whose fright is overcome,
into the night, he plunges on,
driven mad by demon’s lust;
and he’s never seen again.
Upon those nights, the Beduin cry,
“There is no god but God! From him,
all things arise, and hence return;
preserve our souls until that day!”
But one among them does not heed;
he is farangi–an Englishman,
a whimsied traveler in those lands,
and all he hears is sweet melody.
So he bids his hosts, good-night, and throws
a heavy cloak about his back,
and takes a skin of wine, for he thinks
his journey shall not last the night.
The Beduin cry, “Friend, do not go!
‘Tis a honeyed lie, which draws you so,
not maidens comely will you find,
but only ravenous daemonkind!”
To this, the English traveler laughs,
delighted by his friends.
He travels long, his wineskin’s spent;
but now, at last the mournful howls
are but a dune or two away,
and so he plunges further on;
And soon, the sun’s begun to rise,
and breaks the eerie spell of night
and the traveler heeds his growing thirst
and turns to walk back on his trail–
But the trail’s gone! What trick is this?
Whence did the tracks which he just made,
that just a moment ago, he saw–
how did they melt into the sands?!
In panic, now, he stumbles back,
backwards, where he must have walked–
but there’s no telling where he may
have turned, again and again, that night.
The sun grows high, it sears his skin,
thirst swells his tongue within his mouth;
his head soon feels as if it will burst;
his vision blurs, his limbs grow limp.
Too late, he sees the meaning of
the words of warning with which his hosts
sought to restrain him; now he laughs
the sardonic laugh of a man condemned.
But now he ceases to laugh, and stops,
and listens, for he hears again
that siren melody of the sands
which drew him on to his perdition;
But where before, the sound had seemed
to dance ahead, beyond his reach,
now it grows swiftly close and clear–
and suddenly, he sees its source!
A vision of voluptuous beauty,
dressed in vibrant, filmy silk,
her amber eyes are curled by a smile,
and now, her plum-red, plump lips part:
“You poor, dear boy, you’ve gone astray!
Come, let me steer you on your way–
but first, you’ll stay awhile with me;
we’ll spend the day in ecstasy!”
And he runs to her, and praises God
for the angel which He sends.
In time, a Beduin will cross
the spot where the ill-fated Englishman
found his fate among the djinn;
and there, he’ll see the evil sign:
A polished skull, on an ivory post,
the djinni-woman’s grinning trophy;
the Beduin will shudder, and
make haste to leave the thing behind.
But if he’s brave, he might draw close
enough to see upon the skull,
the marks of claws, with which the djinni
rent the flesh clean from the bone.
So if you travel to Araby,
and spend a night in the Rub’ al Khali,
and if you are the kind who seeks
pleasures strange and dangerous,
Heed well the words of the Beduin,
and stop your ears to the song of the djinn;
their sultry sins are sugar-sweet,
and tempt indeed world-wise effetes;
But wander not into the night,
or you’ll never be seen again.
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