Verse 23
There was a merchant of Nishapur who buried every coin he earned, trusting soil more than sons.
There was a merchant of Nishapur who buried every coin he earned, trusting soil more than sons.
A jinn of the lower wind watched him dig by moonlight and asked, Why do men call a thing yours after you have hidden it from yourself?
The merchant said, Because I know where it is.
The jinn replied, So does the earth.
Beside the coins lay a pomegranate seed carried there by a bird. It possessed nothing and therefore began immediately to grow.
Years passed. The merchant counted his keys; the seed counted seasons without arithmetic.
Roots entered the chamber where the coins slept and wrapped the jars as gently as fingers around a cup.
The merchant returned old and breathless. He found the tree above but could not remember the exact stone below.
He cursed the earth for stealing from him.
The jinn said, Strange accusation. You gave the treasure to darkness and darkness merely accepted.
The merchant dug until his heart rebelled against the work.
They buried him beneath the pomegranate tree, three arm-lengths from the jar he had sought.
In spring the fruit was excellent.
Travelers ate beneath the branches and praised the generosity of the dead man, who would have objected strongly.
Thus Plouton's joke: what is hoarded below may return as nourishment above.
And thus the jinn's amendment: not every buried thing should be recovered.
Some wealth becomes useful only after its owner loses the password.