One year, a quarrel broke out among the pilgrims traveling on foot to Mecca, and I was among them. In truth, we got into a scuffle, striking each other and giving in to the vices of anger and strife.
I overheard a person seated comfortably in a litter say to his companion, “How strange! In chess, a lowly pawn reaches the other side of the board and becomes a queen, rising to something greater than it was. But these pilgrims, after crossing the desert on foot, only seem to have worsened.”
Tell the pilgrims who hurt others,
And tear apart the cloak of peace,
You are not true pilgrims; rather, you are like camels,
Poor creatures that suffer thorns and bear heavy loads.
