The Kūfan Maqāmah: A Stranger at the Door after Midnight

1. A new setting and a new mystery

The fifth maqāmah opens in Kūfah: eloquent companions converse at night, the moon sinks, and an unexpected knock breaks the quiet. Al-Ḥārith ibn Hammām remains the narrator; the visitor's identity has not yet been revealed.

«حَكَى الْحَارِثُ بْنُ هَمَّامٍ قَالَ: سَمَرْتُ بِالْكُوفَةِ»
Al-Ḥārith ibn Hammām relates: I spent an evening in conversation in Kūfah.

Samartu refers to conversing at night. The calm setting is important because the late visitor will abruptly change the course of the evening.

2. The night as a two-coloured skin

«فِي لَيْلَةٍ أَدِيمُهَا ذُو لَوْنَيْنِ»
On a night whose outer skin seemed to have two colours.

Adīm properly refers to a hide or its surface. By giving night a skin, the phrase makes darkness and moonlight feel like contrasting colours on a single surface.

The “skin” is imagery, not a literal object. The description establishes a visually memorable night while preparing the reader for a surprising event.

3. The moon compared with a silver amulet

«وَقَمَرُهَا كَتَعْوِيذٍ مِنْ لُجَيْنٍ»
Its moon resembled a small amulet made of silver.

Lujayn means silver, while taʿwīdh supplies the image of a small suspended ornament or amulet. The small, gleaming moon is compared with a silver object.

The particle ka- marks an explicit comparison. This simile follows the more metaphorical image of the night wearing a two-coloured skin.

4. Companions nourished by eloquence

«مَعَ رُفْقَةٍ غُذُوا بِلِبَانِ الْبَيَانِ»
I was with companions who seemed to have been nourished on the milk of eloquence.

Rufqa means a group of companions. Libān, milk, becomes an image for nourishment: just as milk builds the body, eloquence is portrayed as feeding the mind and tongue.

This signals an accomplished literary circle, not merely a casual conversation among travellers.

5. A famous orator eclipsed

«وَسَحَبُوا عَلَى سَحْبَانَ ذَيْلَ النِّسْيَانِ»
They seemed to draw the hem of forgetfulness over Saḥbān.

Saḥbān alludes to a celebrated orator. A dhayl is a trailing hem; drawing it over someone creates an image of covering or obscuring them.

The narrator praises the companions so extravagantly that a famously eloquent speaker seems forgotten. It is literary hyperbole, not a factual claim about a historical contest.

6. Speech worth keeping; a person worth trusting

«مَا فِيهِمْ إِلَّا مَنْ يُحْفَظُ عَنْهُ وَلَا يُتَحَفَّظُ مِنْهُ»
Every person there offered words worth preserving and posed no need for wariness.

Yuḥfaẓu ʿanhu means that valuable statements can be remembered from him; yutaḥaffaẓu minhu means being on guard against him.

The two forms echo the root ḥ-f-ẓ but differ through their constructions and prepositions. The phrase praises both learning and trustworthy character.

Yamīlu ilayhi / yamīlu ʿanhu contrast attraction and turning away through their prepositions, completing the portrait of agreeable companionship.

7. When conversation overcomes the hour

«فَاسْتَهْوَانَا السَّمَرُ إِلَى أَنْ غَرَبَ الْقَمَرُ وَغَلَبَ السَّهَرُ»
Our night conversation absorbed us until the moon set and wakefulness prevailed.

Samar is evening conversation; sahar is being awake at night. The similarity of sounds adds rhythm, while the setting moon marks time passing.

The scene communicates how fully the companions enjoy their discussion: only late in the night does the passing hour become apparent.

8. From wakefulness to drowsiness

«وَلَمْ يَبْقَ إِلَّا التَّهْوِيمُ»
Nothing remained but a state of drowsiness.

Tahwīm is light dozing, not deep sleep. The narration also stresses how dark the night has become, joining physical darkness to the gathering's fatigue.

This makes the interruption dramatically effective. The listeners are close to drifting off when a sudden sound comes from outside.

9. Two sounds at the door

«سَمِعْنَا مِنَ الْبَابِ نَبْأَةَ مُسْتَنْبِحٍ ثُمَّ تَلَتْهَا صَكَّةُ مُسْتَفْتِحٍ»
We heard a cry from the doorway, as if someone were calling to be noticed; then came a knock from someone seeking admission.

Nabʾa denotes a sound or cry, and ṣakka a knock or striking sound. Thumma establishes their sequence.

The narrator hears before he sees. That delayed identification heightens the small mystery at the door.

10. Why the stranger is called mustanbiḥ

«مُسْتَنْبِحٍ»
A person who tries to make dogs bark, often to locate habitation in darkness.

A traveller lost at night could use a dog's response as a sign of nearby dwellings. This background gives mustanbiḥ a practical meaning within the scene: a stranger trying to find people and shelter.

Morphologically it is the active participle of istanbaḥa, a derived verb associated with seeking to elicit barking.

11. The visitor seeks an opened door

«صَكَّةُ مُسْتَفْتِحٍ»
The knock of someone seeking to have a door opened.

Mustaftiḥ is the active participle of istaftaḥa, to seek an opening. The noun ṣakka conveys the knock itself and its modifier gives the purpose.

Mustanbiḥ and mustaftiḥ share a derived pattern: the first seeks a response, the second admission through the door.

12. An unseen arrival in deep darkness

«فَقُلْنَا: مَنِ الْمُلِمُّ فِي اللَّيْلِ الْمُدْلَهِمِّ؟»
We asked: Who has come upon us in this pitch-dark night?

Al-mulim(m) is an unexpected visitor, while al-mudlahimm describes intense darkness. Their matching endings contribute to the prose rhythm.

The question seeks identity but also registers surprise: why would someone arrive at such an hour? The answer comes not as plain prose but as verse.

13. The stranger opens with a blessing

«يَا أَهْلَ ذَا الْمَغْنَى وَقِيتُمْ شَرًّا / وَلَا لَقِيتُمْ مَا بَقِيتُمْ ضَرًّا»
O people of this dwelling, may you be protected from evil and encounter no harm for as long as you live.

Rather than naming himself, the visitor opens with a blessing. Wuqītum conveys being protected, while laqītum means encountering or undergoing something.

Sharran / ḍarran create a strong echo, introducing the final-r sound that shapes the following verses.

Al-maghna here means the dwelling, not a musical performance. Yā is a vocative particle, and ahla is a construct vocative.

14. A night that darkens and closes in

«قَدْ دَفَعَ اللَّيْلُ الَّذِي اكْفَهَرَّا»
The night, which had turned intensely dark and threatening, drove me onward.

Ikfaharra suggests a dark, forbidding aspect. The night itself is made the agent of pushing the traveller forward.

This is personification and heightened imagery, not a claim that the night physically moved him. His search for shelter is shaped by dangerous darkness and exhaustion.

15. The refuge of their protection

«إِلَى ذُرَاكُمْ شَعِثًا مُغْبَرًّا»
Into your shelter, dishevelled and covered with dust.

Dhurā evokes protection or refuge. Shaʿith describes a dishevelled appearance, while mughbarr indicates dust covering the person.

The previous line made night threatening; this one gives visible evidence of the stranger's hardship. Together they make his plea for lodging feel immediate.

16. A traveller worn down by long journeys

«أَخَا سَفَارٍ طَالَ وَاسْبَطَرَّا»
A man of journeys whose travel has stretched on and on.

Akhā safār associates the speaker closely with travelling, as if it defines his condition. Isbaṭarra intensifies the idea of extension or length.

The statement is more evocative than “I have travelled.” It makes duration and fatigue central to the character's appeal.

17. A bent body and a pale face

«حَتَّى انْثَنَى مُحْقَوْقِفًا مُصْفَرًّا»
Until he turned back bent in posture and pale in colour.

Inthanā conveys turning or returning; muḥqawqif describes a bent or hunched frame, and muṣfarr paleness or yellowing.

The paired physical descriptions serve different purposes: one shows posture, the other complexion. The traveller's suffering becomes visible, not merely stated.

18. The weary man likens himself to a crescent

«مِثْلَ هِلَالِ الْأُفْقِ حِينَ افْتَرَّا»
Like the crescent at the horizon when it first shines forth.

Hilāl denotes a slender crescent; ufuq is the horizon. Iftarra evokes appearing or gleaming.

This comparison links back to the traveller's bent frame and pallor. His body is viewed through the recognizable curved shape of a thin crescent, mixing visual beauty with distress.

19. The open space before the dwelling

«وَقَدْ عَرَا فِنَاءَكُمْ مُعْتَرًّا»
He has come into the space before your home as one in need.

Fināʾ is the open space or forecourt by a dwelling. ʿArā indicates arriving, and muʿtarr describes a needy visitor seeking kindness, even without an explicit demand.

The poem now moves from the journey itself to the visitor's immediate location at the hosts' door.

20. The stranger has chosen this household

«أَمَّكُمْ دُونَ الْأَنَامِ طُرًّا»
He came to you in particular, rather than to all the other people.

Ammakum comes from a verb meaning to head toward or seek someone; it does not refer to “mother” here. Al-anām refers to people or creatures, and ṭurran means all together.

The visitor flatters his hosts by stressing that he singled them out for help. His request works through courtesy as well as need.

21. Two distinct needs: food and shelter

«يَبْغِي قِرًى مِنْكُمْ وَمُسْتَقَرًّا»
He seeks from you a guest meal and a place to stay.

Qirā is hospitality in the form of food offered to a guest; mustaqarr is a place of rest or lodging. They identify two different needs: nourishment and shelter.

The request is concrete but phrased elegantly. The traveller is no longer giving only atmospheric descriptions: he now states exactly what help he needs.

22. The guest promises contentment and dignity

«فَدُونَكُمْ ضَيْفًا قَنُوعًا حُرًّا»
Here, then, is a guest who is contented and free-spirited.

Qanūʿ describes satisfaction with what is given, while ḥurr evokes dignity and independence. The speaker uses these descriptions to reassure the hosts that he will not be demanding.

His words combine acknowledgement of need with preservation of self-respect. These are his claims; the narration has not yet demonstrated how he will behave as a guest.

23. Sweet or bitter, he will accept it

«يَرْضَى بِمَا احْلَوْلَى وَمَا أَمَرَّا»
He will accept what is sweet and what is bitter alike.

Iḥlawlā evokes sweetness and amarra bitterness. Their opposition forms an encompassing contrast, suggesting acceptance of whatever the hosts can offer.

The promise reduces the apparent burden on the household. Rather than asking for luxury, the visitor presents himself as grateful for any reasonable hospitality.

24. Rhyme, reassurance, and the completed plea

Different ideas in the poem are bound together by a recurring r-rhyme. The paired endings are memorable, yet each pair advances a new part of the appeal:

Rhyme pairLiterary purposeSharran / ḍarranA blessing on the hostsMughbarran / muṣfarranThe traveller’s exhaustionMuʿtarran / mustaqarranNeed and a search for refugeḤurran / amarranDignity and willingness to accept

At the end, the stranger also indicates that he will spread praise of the household's kindness. The poem moves coherently from blessing to hardship, request, and gratitude.

25. The hosts welcome the stranger

«فَلَمَّا جَلَبَنَا بِعُذُوبَةِ نُطْقِهِ ... ابْتَدَرْنَا فَتْحَ الْبَابِ وَتَلَقَّيْنَاهُ بِالتَّرْحَابِ»
When the sweetness of his speech drew us in, we hurried to open the door and welcomed him warmly.

ʿUdhūbat al-nuṭq means sweetness of speech; ibtadarnā indicates rushing forward, and tarḥāb a broad, warm welcome.

The opening movement is complete: sound → poem → sympathy → open door. The next lesson can examine the guest's reception and the practical consequences of hospitality.