If a violent wind arises from the corner

It will cast the unripe orange to the ground

We call it tyrannical if it's just

We call it skillful if it's devoid of art

If death is justice, then what is oppression?

What is all this outcry about justice?

Your soul is unaware of this secret

You have no way into this veil

All ascend to the peak of greed

To no one has this door of secrets opened

Perhaps a better place awaits in departure

When it finds peace in another abode

The breath of death, like a dreadful fire

Has no concern for the young or the old

In this place, there is no room for delay

When death tightens on the steed of oblivion

Know this: it is justice, not tyranny

When justice arrives, there is no place for cries

Youth and old age, in death’s view

Are the same when the body bears no fruit

If your heart is filled with the light of faith

Silence suits you better as a servant

You have no insight into God’s deeds

Unless your soul shares company with demons

Strive in the world, for when you pass away

You will reap goodness as your ultimate reward

Now, I shall first recount the battle of Sohrab

And how he sought vengeance against his father