41.
The Louse

Once a louse married a flea.^[1] One day guests came to visit them.

"O wife," said the flea. "Won't you get up and make us some dinner?"^[2]

Getting up, the louse kneaded unleavened loaves and went outside to bake them in the oven.^[3] But when she reached in, she could not bring them out. She ran to her husband the flea and said, "I wasn't able to reach them." So out he went and came toward the oven to reach for the loaves, and behold! he landed in the heart of the oven.

The louse waited for him, but he did not come back. Back to the oven she went, and lo and behold! he was burned to a crisp—qahmašane .^[4] He was as charred as charcoal.

Going then to the dump, she smeared herself with soot.^[5]

"What's the matter, O louse?" asked the dump. "Why are you smeared with soot?"

"I'm smeared with soot—saxmane ," answered the louse, "for my husband the lost one—taršne —who fell into the oven and burned to a crisp—qahmašn e ."^[6]

"As for me," said the dump, "I'm collapsing."

Toward evening a flock of sheep came that way.

"What's the matter, O dump?" they asked. "Why have you collapsed?"

"I've collapsed—hailane ," answered the dump. "The louse is smeared with soot—saxmane —and the flea has fallen into the oven and burned to a crisp—qahmašane ."

"As for us," said the sheep, "we're going lame."

In the morning they passed by an olive tree.

"Why, O sheep," asked the tree, "are you lame like this?"

"We're lame—'arjane ," they answered. "The dump has collapsed—hailane —and the louse is smeared with soot—saxmane —for her husband the lost one—taršane —who fell into the oven and burned to a crisp—qahmašne ."

"As for me," said the tree, "I'm withering."

A bird came to perch on the tree.

"What's the matter, O olive tree?" asked the bird. "Why are you withered?"

"I'm withered—šalallane ," answered the tree. "The sheep are lame—`arjane —the dump has collapsed—hailane —and the louse is smeared with soot—saxmane —for her husband the lost one—taršane —who fell into the oven and burned to a crisp—qahmašane ."

"As for me," said the bird, "I'm plucking my feathers."

The bird then went to drink at the spring.

"What's the matter, O bird?" asked the spring. "Why are you plucked?"

"My feathers are plucked—ma`tane ," answered the bird. "The olive tree is withered—šalallane —the sheep are lame—`arjane —the dump has collapsed—hailane —and the louse is smeared with soot—saxmane —for her husband the lost one—taršane —who fell into the oven and burned to a crisp—qahmašane ."

"As for me," said the spring, "I'm drying up."

Bedouin Arabs^[7] came to get water at the spring and found it dry.

"What's the matter, O spring?" they asked. "Why are you dry?"

"I'm dry—našfane ," answered the spring. "The bird's feathers are plucked—ma`tane —the olive tree is withered—šalallane —the sheep are

lame—`arjane —the dump has collapsed—hailane —and the louse is smeared with soot—saxmane —for her husband the lost one—taršane — who fell into the oven and burned to a crisp—qahmašane ."

"As for us," declared the Bedouins, "we're breaking our jars."

They broke their jars and headed back to their camp. Some other Bedouins ran into them.

"Why, O Arabs," they asked, "are your jars broken?"

"Our jars are broken—kasrane ," they answered. "The spring is dry—našfane —the olive tree is withered—šalallane —the sheep are lame—`arjane —the dump has collapsed—hailane —and the louse is smeared with soot—saxmane —for her husband the lost one—taršane —who fell into the oven and burned to a crisp—qahmašane ."

"And as for us," these nomads exclaimed, "we're getting out of here—rahlane !"