On seeking the tree whereof none that eats the fruit shall die.

A learned man (once) said, for the sake of (telling) a story, “In India there is a certain tree:

Whoso takes and eats of its fruit, he grows not old nor ever dies.”

A king heard this (tale) from a veracious person: he became a lover of the tree and its fruit.

From the Divan of culture he sent an intelligent envoy to India in search (of it).

For (many) years his envoy wandered about India in quest (of the tree).

He roamed from town to town for this object: neither island nor mountain nor plain was left (unvisited).

Every one whom he asked made a mock of him, saying, “Who would search after this, unless perhaps a madman in confinement?”

Many slapped him jocosely; many said, “O fortunate man,

How should the enquiry of a clever and clear-minded person like you be devoid (of result)? How should it be vain?”

And this (ironical) respect was to him another slap, and it was harder (to bear) than the visible slap.

They extolled him sarcastically, saying, “O great sir, in such and such a place there is a very huge tree.

In such and such a forest there is a green tree, very tall and broad, and every branch of it is big.”

The king's envoy, who had braced his belt for the quest, was hearing a different kind of report from every one;

So he travelled there for years, (whilst) the king kept sending money to him.

After he had suffered much fatigue in that foreign land, at last he became too exhausted to seek (any longer).

No trace of the object of pursuit was discovered: of what he wanted nothing appeared but the report.

The thread of his hope snapped, the thing he had sought became unsought in the end.

He resolved to return to the king, (and set out) shedding tears and traversing the way.