Abulqasim Ferdowsi. Shahnameh (№ 365750)

Run living, worldly vanity,
Not prolepsis to the world with all my heart!
People like you and I, he has seen
And all birthday hated.
I say you were a day laborer or king,-
Go, and the world will remain, as of old.
Let your crown to the Pleiades arise,
To collect their belongings all are you have to.
The iron you - you will melt it,
You weak - you will not be spared.
The camp, as Cogan from old age will bend.
Of the eyes extinct, the rain of tears will flow.
Saffron will be a fresh color to cheeks,
And the burden you will burden.
Though the mill was bent, the living spirit does not sleep.
Friends are gone, nobody listens.
If you were a commoner Il shahanshah,
Your refuge in the coming dust.
Where did men in crowns star?
Where Farr and happiness of the nobles, formidable?
Where are the generals, pahlavani-lions?
Where are their bones? Where is the proud head?
Their head - dust, ash and stone.
But the glory of the good and not devour the flame,