Fate cut the life vein of a living person

Another person tore their collar in grief over his death

A sharp-witted observer said

When he heard the cries and lamentations

If the dead had power over themselves

They would have torn their shroud

Do not twist in so much sorrow and pain

For I prepared two days ahead of you

Have you forgotten your own death?

That death weakened and wounded you

Indeed, he who scatters flowers on the dead

Does not grieve for the dead but for himself

For the separation from a child who went into the earth

Why do you lament? He came pure and left pure

You came pure, be vigilant and pure

For it is a disgrace to go to the earth impure

Now you must tie this bird's feet

Not when the reins have slipped from your hand

You have sat in many others' places

Another will sit in your place

Whether you are a hero or a sword wielder

You will not take anything but a shroud

If the wild donkey breaks its tether

When it stays in the sand, it becomes shackled

Your strength is limited as well

As long as your foot has not sunk into the grave's sand

Do not set your heart on this old place

For the dome will not last on it forever

When yesterday is gone and tomorrow hasn't arrived

Account for this one breath that exists