I became a guest of an old man in Diyarbakir, who had great wealth and a handsome son.
One night, the old man told me, “Throughout my life, I have had no child except this son. There is a tree in this valley that people visit to make supplications for their needs. I spent many long nights weeping and praying to God at the foot of that tree until He granted me this child.”
I overheard the son quietly speaking to his friends, saying, “What if I could only find out where that tree is so I could pray for my father to die?”
The father, meanwhile, was rejoicing, thinking, "My son is wise," while the son was mocking, thinking, "My father is decrepit."
Years will pass over you, and you will never visit your father’s grave.
What good have you done in your father’s place,
That you expect the same from your own son?
