A villager's donkey fell and died

It raised its head upon the vineyard’s vine

An experienced elder passed by him

He smiled and said to the keeper of the field

Do not think this donkey's life is a result of his father’s soul

That he drives away the evil eye from the fields

For he did not ward off the stick from his own head and ears

He did not, until he grew weak and his beard turned gray

What does a physician know of the suffering of one who endures pain?

Who will wish to die from the agony of misfortune?