I worked on the construction of the closed wall.
I fed the rooster belonging to the stringy-legged man.
The great-horned ram gave chase to me
and the furious bull tried to kill me.
I saw the fire; it almost did me in.
I passed by, near the three enigmatic wells.
I saw the crazy man pick up wood.
Like yourself, I fell in the foul-smelling hole.”
“Master!” cried Hammadi, trying to talk.
The little man signaled him to be silent
and pursued his talk, saying:
“Hammadi! Your two companions chose
grievous ends: fortune and power.
You chose the truth which is knowledge;
at the root of knowledge you found power and fortune
which your friends sought, and which evaded them.
Under the bushy tree
you discovered the one who takes shelter:
the wise man whom one rarely meets,
perhaps once or twice, but never
three times in one life.
You cared for him and with a golden key
you opened his two lips as heavy
as the bronze doors of a fortress.
He engraved in you three items of wisdom
for which you paid dearly, and which you offered generously
to your friends who refused, mocking him. This made Heaven angry.
Punishment took the form of the lion, and tore apart
one of them; a river drowned the other.
The ferryman took his fare, but refused
another great gift.
The three oxen, laden with gold offered to him
under the bushy tree, were refused.
The ferryman destroyed and sank the boat
to keep anyone else from crossing the river.
Aside from all this, something else lay in wait
like a trap to take you by the foot.
You were lucky, Hammadi, not to have forgotten