A Tale of Greed

I heard that one morning, early at dawn, a greedy man went before the king of Khwarazm. When he saw him, he bent double in service, then straightened, and again pressed his face to the ground before rising. His son said to him: Father, seeker of good name, I want to ask you something puzzling, so tell me. Didn't you say the direction of prayer is toward the Hejaz? Why did you pray this way today? Don't obey a soul enslaved to desire, for every hour it faces a different direction. Don't lend your hand to its commands, brother, for whoever refuses to obey it is set free. Contentment lifts your head high, wise man; a head full of greed will not rise above the shoulders. Greed spilled your honor and your dignity; for two grains of barley it tore open a whole robe. When a little stream would quench your thirst, why pour out your honor chasing snow? Learn to do without luxury and pleasure, or need will drive you begging from door to door. Go, master, shorten the hand of greed. What do you gain from a long, grasping sleeve? Anyone whose ledger is filled with greed should not be called any man's slave or servant. Your begging drives you out of every gathering; drive it out of yourself before it gets you thrown out.