"Après le décès de Cheikh Sharafouddin, j'attendais une ouverture pour émigrer de la Turquie, j'étais dans en séclusion dans la mosquée à côté du tombeau de mon Cheikh, priant une nuit auparavant Fajr.
Nasreddin Hodja opened the door for his old creditor who knocked his door many times to ask for paying his money back.
-Soon, said the Hodja, "I will pay your money back soon."
-When? asked the man.
-Listen...I sowed the thorn seeds in the street, along our wall.
-And?
-And the seed will flourish and we shall have plenty of thorns in the spring.
-Yes, no doubt! Then?
-Many flocks of sheep pass along this street. In passing, they will leave some of their wool on the thorns. I will collect the wool and my wife will spin it into yarn. Then, the rest is easy! I will sell
the yarn on the market and pay your money back.
The man burst into laughter at this ridiculous plan. Then Hodja said:
-Now that you have felt the ready cash in your hand you can afford to laugh, can't you, you rascal!
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