Chapter Six: On Weakness and Old Age

I was in a discussion with a group of scholars in the Great Mosque of Damascus when a young man came in and asked: Is there anyone here who knows Persian? Most of them pointed to me. I said to him: Is everything all right? He said: An old man, a hundred and fifty years old, is on his deathbed, and he keeps saying something in Persian that we cannot understand. If you would be kind enough to trouble yourself, you will earn a reward; perhaps he is making his last will. When I approached his bedside, this is what he was saying: I told myself I would draw a few more breaths of pleasure, but alas, the path of breath itself has closed. Alas, at the lavish table of life we had barely tasted a mouthful when they said: Enough. I explained the meaning of these words in Arabic to the Syrians, and they marveled at his long life, and at how he still grieved for this worldly existence. I said: How are you feeling in this state? He said: What can I say? Have you not seen how much pain a man suffers when they pull a single tooth from his mouth? Then imagine what state he is in at the moment when his very soul is being torn from his precious body. I said: Put the thought of death out of your mind, and do not let fear take command of your nature, for the Greek philosophers have said that even a sound constitution is no guarantee of survival, and even a terrifying illness does not always mean death. If you wish, I will call a physician to treat you. He opened his eyes, laughed, and said: The skilled physician throws up his hands in defeat when he sees his patient stricken senseless. The master busies himself with the mansion's decorations while the house is collapsing at its foundations. An old man was groaning in the throes of death while an old woman rubbed sandalwood balm on him. Once the body's balance has fallen into ruin, neither resolve nor remedy can do any good.

An old man told this story: I had taken a young girl as my wife. I decorated the bridal room with flowers, sat alone with her, and fixed my eyes and heart on her. Through the long nights I stayed awake, telling jokes and clever stories, hoping she would grow fond of me and not turn cold. Among other things I said: Fortune has smiled on you, luck is watching over you, for you have found the company of an old man, seasoned and worldly, calm, one who has tasted both heat and cold, tested good and bad, a man who understands the worth of companionship and honors the duty of love, kind and tender, good natured and sweet of tongue. I will win your heart as far as I am able, and even if you wound me, I will not wound you back. And if you crave sugar like a parrot for your food, my sweet life is a small price to keep you well. You have not fallen into the hands of some conceited, reckless, hot headed, flighty youth who cooks up a new whim each moment, changes his mind every instant, sleeps in a different bed each night, and takes a new lover every day. Do not expect loyalty from nightingales, for each moment they sing to a different rose. Unlike old men, who live by reason and good manners, not by the demands of youthful folly. Seek someone better than yourself, and count it a chance; with an equal, you will only waste your days. He went on: I said so much in this vein that I imagined her heart had come under my spell and she was mine. Then suddenly she let out a cold sigh from a place of pain and said: All these words you have spoken carry no weight on the scale of my reason next to what I once heard from my midwife, who said: For a young woman, an arrow in the side is better than an old man. When she saw at her husband's side something as slack as the lip of a man who is fasting, she said: This one with me is a corpse, and charms and spells are only for the sleeping. A woman who rises from a man's bed unwilling, from that house much strife and quarrel will rise. An old man who cannot even rise from his place except by his cane, how will his other 'staff' ever rise? In short, there was no way to make it work, and it ended in separation. When her waiting period was over, they married her to a young man who was harsh, sour faced, penniless, and ill tempered. She suffered cruelty and injustice, endured hardship and misery, yet still gave thanks to God, saying: Praise be to God, I escaped that painful torment and reached this lasting bliss. With all this cruelty and bad temper of yours, I will bear your burden, because you are beautiful. To burn in torment beside you is better than going to paradise with another. The smell of onions from the mouth of a beauty is sweeter than a rose from an ugly hand.

I was the guest of an old man in Diyarbakir who had great wealth and a handsome son. One night he told me: In all my life I have had nothing but this son. There is a tree in this valley that people treat as a shrine, going there to ask for what they need. On long nights I wept at the foot of that tree, begging God, until He granted me this son. I overheard the son whispering to his friends: If only I knew where that tree stood, I would go and pray for my father to die. The old man was rejoicing that his son was wise, while the son was mocking that his father was a worn out old man. Years may pass in which you never once visit your own father's grave. What kindness did you ever do for your father, that you should expect the same from your son?

One day, in the pride of youth, I had driven myself hard, and by nightfall I lay exhausted at the foot of a steep pass. A frail old man came up from the rear of the caravan and said: Why are you sitting here, where there is no place to rest? I said: How can I go on when I have no strength left to walk? He said: Have you not heard what the wise have said? Walking steadily and pausing is better than running yourself to a breaking point. You who long to reach your destination, do not rush; take my advice to heart and learn patience. The Arabian horse runs in bursts and quickly tires, but the camel moves slowly, on and on, night and day.

There was a young man in our circle of pleasure: quick, gentle, laughing, sweet of tongue. No sorrow of any kind ever entered his heart, and his lips never closed from smiling. A stretch of time passed with no chance to meet. When I saw him again, he had taken a wife and raised children; the root of his joy was severed, and the flower of his desire had wilted. I asked him: how are you, and what is your state? He said: since I began raising children, I have played the child no more. What place has youthful play now that gray has changed the hair at my temples? The changing of the times is warning enough. Once you have grown old, give up childish ways; leave games and light banter to the young. Do not look for a youth's merriment in an old man, for the water that has run past will not come back to the stream. When the crop has reached its time for harvest, it no longer sways like fresh young grass. The season of my youth has slipped from my hands. Alas, and how I grieve for those heart-brightening days. The strength of a lion's paw is gone; now I am content, like a leopard, with a scrap of cheese. An old woman had dyed her hair black. I said: my dear old auntie of many years, suppose you have tricked your hair into looking black, this bent old back of yours will never straighten again.

Once, in the foolishness of youth, I raised my voice against my mother; heartbroken, she sat in a corner and said through her tears: Have you forgotten how small you once were, that now you treat me so harshly? How well an old woman spoke to her son when she saw him grown, strong as a leopard-slayer, mighty as an elephant: If only you remembered the days of your childhood, when you lay helpless in my arms, you would not treat me so cruelly today, just because you are a lion of a man now, and I only an old woman.

A stingy rich man had a sick son. Well wishers told him: the wise course is to arrange a recitation of the whole Quran for his sake, or to offer a sacrifice. He sank into thought for a while, then said: better a Quran that stays untouched than a flock that wanders off, better to spend words on the book than to give up a sheep from my herd. A discerning man heard this and said: he chose the recitation for one reason, that the Quran is only on the tongue, while gold sits deep in the heart. How sad, that bowing your neck in obedience would be so much better if it came with an open hand. For a single coin they get stuck like a donkey in mud, but ask them to recite the Fatiha and they will read it a hundred times.

They asked an old man: why don't you take a wife? He said: with old women there is no pleasure for me. They said: then marry a young woman, since you have wealth. He said: as an old man, I feel no warmth with old women. So how could any love take shape between her, who is young, and me, who am old? An old man of seventy plays the young lover; look with your own eyes at his ridiculous passion. It takes strength, not gold, for a wife would rather have a single carrot than ten pounds of meat.

I have heard that lately an old man took it into his aging head to find a wife. He asked for a lovely girl named Gohar, a jewel, and hid her like a pearl in its case, away from people's eyes. The wedding had its usual spectacle and joy, but at the very first assault the old man's staff went limp. He drew his bow and missed the mark, for you cannot stitch a heavy garment except with a needle of steel. He began complaining to friends, building his case: 'This bright-eyed girl has swept my whole house clean and left me ruined.' War and turmoil broke out between husband and wife, until it reached the police and the judge, and Saadi said: After all this quarreling and disgrace, the girl bears no blame. With a hand that trembles, how would you know how to pierce a pearl? The sea's rewards would be sweet, were there no fear of the waves; the rose's company would be pleasant, were there no worry of thorns. Last night I strutted like a peacock in the garden of union; today, apart from my love, I writhe like a snake.