The Tale of the Cruel Constable

A tyrant had fallen into a well, one so terrifying that even a lion cowered before him. A man of ill will toward others never met with anything but ill; now he had fallen, and found no one more helpless than himself. All night he lay awake, crying and wailing, until someone struck his head with a stone and said: Did you ever once come to anyone's aid, that today you cry out for a rescuer? You planted nothing but the seeds of cruelty; see now the harvest you must gather. Who would lay a balm on your wounded soul, when hearts still ache from the wounds you gave them? You dug a pit for us on the road; no wonder you fell headfirst into a pit yourself. Two kinds of people dig wells for the public: one leaves a good name, the other a foul one. One digs to refresh a thirsty throat; the other digs so that people fall in up to their necks. If you do evil, expect no good in return, for a tamarisk tree never bears grapes. I don't imagine, you who sow barley in autumn, that you'll gather wheat at harvest time. If you nurture the bitter zaqqum tree with all your heart, never think you'll taste sweet fruit from it. The oleander branch bears no dates; whatever seed you cast, expect exactly that.