Jam descended into the grave, a dear one

His shroud was like silken threads

He rose from the tomb after a few days

To weep for him with lament and sorrow

When he saw his silk shroud decayed

He said to himself in thought

I had driven away worms with force

The grave worms drove them away again

In this garden, no cypress grew tall

Without the wind of fate uprooting it

Fate did not create a Yusuf of beauty

Without a whale devouring his grave like Yunus

Two verses once made my heart burn

As a singer said with a lute

Alas, many days will pass without us

Flowers will bloom and spring will blossom

Many months of Tir, Dey, and Ordibehesht will come

When we are earth and brick