One day, in one of the simple villages, there lived a poor man who worked as a weaver. He would weave clothes every day from morning to evening, then go out to sell those clothes and get money to buy food for his family. One day, while weaving some clothes, his spindle suddenly broke. The weaver was extremely sad because it was the only means of earning a living, and it was difficult for him to get a new spindle after his spindle broke. ...
There was a rich man. When he married, he begot from his wife two sons. He continued to raise them, oversee their upbringing, and spend upon them until they grew up and became men capable of bearing responsibility. Then after a period of time, the man fell severely ill. He continued to suffer from this illness until he died from the severity of the effects of that disease. He left his two sons a tremendous fortune. ...
It is narrated that in one of the nights there was a tree pomegranate beautiful growing on the bank of the river, living on this tree a small monkey who loved to eat the fruit of the pomegranate which is sweet, and which grows on its branches. One day a greedy monkey came to ask him: Do you hear me that I can eat some of the fruit of your beautiful tree? ...