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The captain took pity

The captain took pity

By Ericka HoustonPublished 4 months ago • 3 min read

I climbed to the foot of the mountain, and in front of me was an endless plain. For a month I walked across the plains and came to the open sea. I was walking around there when I noticed a wooden boat coming towards the shore in the calm sea. At once I hid myself behind a large rock, and when the ship was near the shore, I threw myself into the boat. A passenger said, "Kick that unlucky thing off." "Let's just kill it," said another. The third man said, "Use this sword." I held tightly to the captain's skirt, and wept without ceasing. The captain took pity on me and said:

"My friends, this monkey sees us as his saviour. I am willing to save him. Let it stay with me from now on. Don't kill it, and don't mistreat it." So the captain took me in, and I understood everything he said, and I did everything he wanted. I served him carefully and assiduously to gain his favour.

After sailing for fifty days, the ship came to a city, which was crowded with people. No sooner had the ship come to rest than the King sent his minister to congratulate him, saying, "Your Majesty wishes you a safe journey. He bade me take this roll of paper to the ship, and ask each of you to write a line on it at will. Because the minister who had written for the king had died, the king had sworn to find someone who could write as well as himself to succeed him."

The merchants took the scroll, which was a foot long and a foot wide, and wrote a line on it, all those who could write. At last I went up solemnly, and seized the roll. They stopped me, fearing that I might break it. I motioned to write, too, and the captain said:

"Let it write a few words. If it soiled or damaged the roll, we turned it away; If he writes well, I will take him as my son, for there is no monkey as clever as him."

So I took an ink pen in my hand and wrote some poems in several different fonts:


Through the ages, your generosity has been celebrated,

Yet thy kindness is praised by all.

May our ruler, Allah,

Do not make you a wandering stranger.


His pen spread its message far and wide,

Your handwriting makes people feel at ease.

Your fingers are like five clear streams,

Water poured out of his fingers and watered the land on all sides.


All scholars die forever,

His ink is everlasting.

You don't scribble at random,

Write only what will make you happy on Resurrection Day.


As soon as the news of your death reached us,

The world will no longer have your shadow.

We're still at the top of the ink bottle,

With the mouthpiece of laughter to pour out sorrow.


There has never been a king for ages,

The stars change and the stars change.

Only green pines and green cypresses,

To stand for life forever, standing.


When you open the beautiful, luxurious cartridge,

Let pen and ink spill its generosity and magnanimity.

You're supposed to record the good stuff,

It glows against the ink.


About the Creator

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