Fereydun had a minister of noble choice,

A man of insight and a clear hearted voice.

He first sought to please the will of the divine,

And then upheld the king's command as fine.

An ignoble agent brings people distress,

As governance thrives on wisdom, not excess.

If you neglect justice in divine accord,

Even kings may bring harm as your reward.

One morning, a man approached the king,

Saying, 'May every day bring you peace and blessing.'

Hear not my intent, but heed my advice,

This minister secretly seeks your demise.

No noble or common soldier is spared,

For he hoards their silver and gold unshared.

On the condition that when the noble king dies,

The treasure will return to repay their cries.

This self-centered man desires not your life,

Lest his hoarded wealth face any strife.

The king gazed at his minister with care,

Examining him with a shrewd, watchful stare.

He asked, 'Why, in the guise of a friend,

Do you harbor ill thoughts that could offend?'

The minister bowed and kissed the ground,

Saying, 'If you ask, I shall not confound.'

O noble king, I wish for your grace,

That all your subjects live in goodwill's embrace.

If my wealth depends on the end of your days,

They'll pray for your life beyond fear of my ways.

Do you not desire sincere and humble prayer,

For a prosperous reign and a long life to spare?

Men value prayers as a shield in plight,

A strong armor against misfortune’s might.

The king admired the wisdom he displayed,

And his face bloomed fresh, like a rose arrayed.

The minister's rank and status grew,

With honor enhanced and his prestige anew.

The ill-wisher was punished and reprimanded,

Regretting the words that he had commanded.

I have not seen one more lost than a tale-bearer,

Unluckier and more forlorn than such a sharer.

For his ignorance and narrow mind ignite,

Discord between two friends, who once were tight.

When this and that reconcile with peace,

He remains blind with shame and ill at ease.

To kindle fire between two hearts,

Is folly, burning oneself in such dark arts.

As Saadi tasted the joy of solitude,

From worldly talk, he withdrew with gratitude.

Speak only what is wise and worth the word,

Even if it pleases no one who has heard.

For tomorrow regret will make one cry,

Saying, 'I wish I had spoken and lent an ear high.'