the master of the house. But the dull-witted fool imagines that the platter and the censer were set out for him and that the host means to present them as a gift. When he rises to depart, he seizes the platter and the censer, but is barred from leaving with them; they are taken back, his breast tightens, his heart grows weary, and, once his fault is laid bare, he pleads to be excused. In truth, this world is like a road for the traveller and a lodging along the way: one should provision himself there for the journey and never covet the lodging itself.
Eighth example: The people of this world—absorbed in their occupations, preoccupied with its concerns, forgetting the Hereafter and neglecting it—are like a group who boarded a ship. They put ashore on an island to perform purification and relieve themselves. As they disembark, the sailor calls after them: “Do not tarry, lest the time slip away; busy yourselves with nothing but ablution and prayer, for the ship is about to sail.” Yet they scatter across the island and roam its corners.
The prudent among them waste no time: they perform their purification, return to the ship, find the seats still empty, and settle in the cleanest, most suitable, and highest places.
Others gaze at the island’s marvels; they stroll amid its blossoms and fruits, its meadows and trees, listen to the sweet song of its birds, and marvel at its varicoloured pebbles and stones. When they finally come back to the ship, they find no seat available and no space at all, so they sit in its narrowest, darkest recesses.
Still others are not content with mere sightseeing; they gather some of those coloured pebbles, carry them onto the ship, and, finding nowhere to sit, squeeze into the most cramped spots while the stones weigh upon their necks. After only a day or two the pebbles’ colours fade and turn black, giving off the foulest stench. Hemmed in by the crowd, they can find no way to cast off their burden; they bitterly regret what they have done, yet because they spent their time collecting those stones they are now saddled with their weight.
Among them, too, are those who lingered amid the island’s wonders, strolling about, and when the time came to return they did not—