Listen to the story of what happened in Baghdad

Between the flag and the curtain, a dispute arose

The flag said, from the dust of the road and the pain of the stirrup

It said to the curtain, in a tone of reproach:

You and I are both servants of the king

We are both slaves of the royal court

I have not benefited from service for a moment

I have been traveling from time to time

You have not experienced hardship or siege

Nor desert, wind, dust, and smoke

My foot is ahead in effort

So why is your honor greater?

You are gentle with the servants

And fragrant with the slaves of jasmine

I have fallen into the hands of apprentices

Bound to travel and wandering

The curtain said: I have my head on the threshold

Not like you, with your head in the sky

Whoever raises their neck in vain

Will throw themselves into trouble