I was in Diarbekr, the guest of an old man, who possessed abundant wealth and a beautiful son. One night he narrated to me that he had all his life no other son but this boy, telling me that in the locality people resorted to a certain tree in a valley to offer petitions and that he had during many nights prayed at the foot of the said tree, till the Almighty granted him this son. I overheard the boy whispering to his companion: ‘How good it would be if I knew where that tree is that I might pray for my father to die.’ Moral: The gentleman is delighted that his son is intelligent and the boy complains that his father is a dotard.

I could one day enjoy my wishThat a river’s waves might strike my kneeAnd I might fill my water-bag.’In the same manner another traveller lost himself in an extensive region having neither any strength nor food left but he possessed some money and roamed about and the road leading him nowhere he perished from exhaustion….

Who spends it in adoring thee.

Strip thy foes of their skins and thy friends of their fur-coats.

For realm and wealth with an ignorant man are weapons against himself.

Fate ties the legs of a running man.At the moment when the enemy has slowly arrivedIt is useless to draw the Kayanian bow.

The Arif who feels aggrieved is shallow water yet.If he injures thee, bear itBecause pardon will purify thee from sin.O brother, as the end is dust, be dust before thou art turned into dust.