The seventh victim makes (his) complaint.

When the seventh person came before (the king), he beautified his lips with praise, and said,
I’m an ascetic who has spurned the world, a pious traveller on the road of God.
Poor, but with care for naught, and, candle-like, before the people burning self away.
I gave up (all) the business of (this) world, studied the volume of the future state.
I have no share in any food or sleep: I stand at night (to pray), and always fast.
By day I eat not, for I have no food; at night I sleep not, for I have no home.
Within a place of worship I abide, with naught but worship am I occupied.
Whomever I may see I seek to please; for him I call to mind I say a prayer.
The vazīr sent a man to summon me; I went, and sat a little distance off.
I am suspicious of you, thus he spoke, and if I objurgate you it is meet.
I said, My lord, tell me what you surmise, in order that I live as you dispose.
He said, Your imprecations much I fear: that you may to your God pray for my death;
That you through evil-nature and ill-will may call down impre­cations on my head.
And from those night-prayers of a sleepless one I fear an arrow on this mark may fall.
Ere from the fire of your malevolence the sparks of imprecations fall on me,
I’ll bind your hands and so prevent your prayers—not only hands, but hands and also neck.
By scruples unrestrained, he had me bound; he had no feeling for this soul distressed.
He kept me in this anguish seven years; a lock upon my tongue, my feet in chains.
He bound my hands down to prevent my prayers; (but) I have bound his hands from using power*1969.
When God the king’s compassion granted me, no more had joy (for absence) any plea*1970.
The king embraced the ascetic combatant, the lion, slayer of the infidel.
He said, Save on the point of fear of prayer Rāst-rūshan uttered not a word of truth.
But prayers they cannot in this way repel; nor can they make the ascetic like a thief*1971.
He who inflicted on his soul such ill invoked (effective) curses on himself*1972.
So that at last those curses should deprive his head of turban*1973 and himself of head.
All that the vazīr had of every kind,—he said to the ascetic, Take, it’s yours.
But the ascetic would not take such ease*1974; he whirled, and like the (whirling) wheel became*1975.
He said, Than wealth, from which I am divorced, give something better, for I’ve better given.
He danced, (but) not through minstrel or to song; he so became that no one saw him more.
Those travellers on the Path who so have been,—their heads from earth have on the heavens touched*1976.
(But) ere you find matured wine in the cup, thousands of unripe sour grapes you must see*1977.
This set, although they are of human stock, are all (but) demons, though entitled men.
The water of the stream, so vehement, is from the rill which rises from a sink*1978.
Matured is he who from a set so crude holds off his collar and draws in his skirt.
We, like the earth, with mud are all bestained; the shadow of the mud infolds the sun*1979.—
With eyes cast on the world’s oppressive acts, aiming by justice to restore affairs*1980,
He sought to find out what was best to do, from the thorn’s harshness how to free the rose.
When the vazīr’s affair he called to mind, he leant his head upon his hand in thought.
Till dawn he slept not from the shame he felt; (his) eyes he closed not from distress of heart.