Story 

        I saw bouquets of fresh roses

        Tied upon a cupola of grass.

        I asked: 'What is despicable grass

        To sit also in the line of the roses?'

        The grass wept and said: 'Hush!

        Companionship does not obliterate nobility.

        Although I have no beauty, colour and perfume,

        Am I not after all the grass of his garden?

        I am the slave of a bountiful lord,

        Cherished from old by his liberality.

        Whether I possess virtue or not

        I hope for grace from the Lord

        Although I possess no property

        No capital to offer as obedience.

        He knows the remedy for the slave

        To whom no support remains.

        It is customary that the owner gives a writ

        Of emancipation to an old slave.

        O God, who hast adorned the universe,

        Be bountiful to thy old slave.'

        Sa'di, take the road to the Ka'bah of submission.

        O man of God, follow the way of God.

        Unlucky is he who turns his head

        Away from this door for he will find no other door.