Turkish Literature; Comprising Fables, Belles-lettres, and Sacred Traditions
General
Turkish Literature; Comprising Fables, Belles-lettres, and Sacred Traditions
Turkey -- Literary collections; Turkish literature -- Translations into English
The King’s Remorse 428
Luqman’s Device 430
The King and the Dervish 432
Mahmud and Hasan 436
Story of Sultan Mahmud 438
Story of the Merchant’s Son 440
Hasan of Basra 446
The Gardener and His Son 449
The Dervish’s Advice 450
The Turkman Children 452
A Queen’s Deceit 453
The Abdal and the King 455
The Sultan and His Traitorous Son 456
Conclusion 460
TURKISH FABLES
[_Translated by Epiphanius Wilson, A.M._]
TURKISH FABLES
THE GARDENER AND HIS WIFE
A certain Gardener had a young and pretty woman for his Wife. One day,
when, according to her habit, she had gone to wash her linen in the
river, the Gardener, entering his house, said to himself:
“I do not know, really, whether my Wife loves me. I must put it to the
test.”
On saying this, he stretched himself full length upon the ground, in the
middle of the room, as if dead. Soon, his Wife returned, carrying her
linen, and perceived her husband’s condition.
“Tired and hungry as I am,” she said to herself, “is it necessary that I
should begin at once to mourn and lament? Would it not be better to
begin by eating a morsel of something?”
She accordingly cut off a piece of _pasterma_ (dried smoked meat), and
set it to roast on the coals; then she hurriedly went upstairs to the
garret, took a pot of milk, drank some of it, and put the rest on the
fire. At this moment, an old woman, her neighbor, entered, with an
earthen vessel in her hand, and asked for some burning coals.
“Keep your eye on this pot,” she said to the old woman, rising to her
feet. Then she burst into sobs and lamentations.
“Alas!” she cried, “my poor husband is dead!”
The neighbors, who heard her voice, rushed in, and the deceitful hussy
kept on repeating:
“Alas! What a wretched fate has my husband met with!” and tears flowed
afresh.
At that instant the dead man opened his eyes.
“What are you doing?” he said to her. “Finish first the roasting of the
_pasterma_, quenching your throat in milk, and boiling the remainder of
it; afterward you will find time to weep for me.”
First myself, and then those I love, says a proverb.
THE FLY
A Fly who had carelessly fallen into a pot full of food was at the point
of death.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account