Then came the wagtail, weak of body and tender of heart, trembling like a flame from head to foot. “I am,” said she, “bewildered, cast down, without vigour, without strength, without means of subsistence. I am as frail as a hair; I have no one to help me, and in my weakness I have not the strength of an ant. I have neither down nor feathers—nothing at all. How can I reach the noble Simurgh? How could a weak bird like me ever come to Him? Could a wagtail ever do so? There are plenty of people in the world who seek this union; but is it suited to a creature such as I? I feel that I cannot attain to this union, and therefore I will not undertake a painful journey for something impossible. If I set out for the court of the Simurgh, I shall die or be burned on the way. Since I do not feel equal to the enterprise Thou propose, I shall content myself with seeking my Joseph here in the well. I have lost a Joseph, but I may yet find Him in the world. If I succeed in drawing my Joseph out of the well, I shall fly with Him from the fish to the moon.”
The hoopoe replied to him: “O thou who, in thy dejection, now sad, now cheerful, resistest my invitation! I pay little heed to thy clever pretexts and thy hypocrisy, far from finding thy arguments acceptable. Set thy foot forward, utter not a word, sew up thy lips. If all are consumed by fire, thou shalt be consumed like the rest; but since thou dost compare thyself metaphorically to Jacob, know that Joseph will not be given to thee: cease, then, to employ cunning. The fire of jealousy shall ever burn, and the world cannot attain to the love of Joseph.”