THE STORY OF KING MAHMOUD AND THE WOODCUTTER

King Mahmoud went out hunting. In the chase
His courtiers flagged, unequal to the pace.
An old man led a donkey whose high load
Of brushwood slipped and fell into the road.
The old man scratched his head; the king came near
And said: "Do you need help?" "I  do, that's clear,"
The old man said; "if you could lend a hand,
You won't lose much. I see that you command
Your share of grace- such men are always good."
The king got down and helped him with the wood,
His flower-like hands embraced the thorns; and then
He rode back to his waiting lord again.
He said to them: "An old man will appear,
Riding a piled-high donkey- lead him here;
Block all the paths and highways to this place;
I want him to confront me face to face."
The winding roads were blocked up in a ring,
Of which the center was the waiting king.
The old man mumbled as he rode alone:
"Why won't he go...this donkey's skin and bone.
Soldiers!...Good day, my lord!" and still the way
Led pitilessly on; to his dismay
There rose ahead a royal canopy,
And there was no escape that he could see.
He rode, for there was nothing else to do
And found awaiting him a face he knew.
"I made a king hump wood for me," he cried;
"God help all sinners now, I'm terrified."
"What troubles you, my man?" inquired the king.
"Don't play with me, you took in everything,"
The old man said; "I'm just a wretched fool
who day and night must scour the plain for fuel;
I sell the thorns I get and buy dry bread-
Give me some scraps, and blessings on your head."
The king replied: "Old man, I'll buy your wood-
Come name a price you think is fair and good."
"My lord, such wood cannot be cheaply sold;
It's worth, I reckon, ten full bags of gold."
The courtiers laughed: "It's worth two barley grains.
Shut up and sell, and thank you for your pains."
"Two grains, my friends, that's true- but this rare buyer
Can surely manage something rather higher?
A great one touched these thorns- his hand brought forth
A hundred flowers; just think what that is worth!
A dinnar buys one root- a little gain
Is only right, I've had my share of pain;
The wood itself is worthless, I agree-
It is that touch which gives it dignity"'

                                                       ATTAR