The Man with Only an Onion

One man had nothing to eat with his bread but an onion; unlike others, he had no comforts or fine things. A troublemaker said to him: You wretch, go and grab yourself a dish from the free-for-all feast. Just ask, sir, and fear no one; a man cut off from his daily bread is the one who should feel shame. He tucked up his robe and quickly reached out his hand; they tore his robe and broke his hand. I heard him say, while weeping tears of blood: My own soul, what remedy is there for the harm I brought on myself? Whoever is caught in the grip of greed goes looking for trouble. From now on it's just me, my home, my bread and my onion. A crust of barley bread I earn by the sweat of my own arm is better than fine white bread on the table of the generous. How miserably that low creature slept last night, straining to hear what fell from other people's tables.