The Coming of Sohrab

If a sudden storm rises from some corner and knocks an unripe orange to the ground, should we call it cruel or just? Call it skilled or without skill? If death itself is just, then what is injustice? And why all this outcry and complaint against what is fair? Your soul knows nothing of this secret; you have no way behind this veil. All have passed on, driven by desire, yet for no one has this door of mystery opened. Perhaps in leaving, a better place awaits, where the soul finds peace in another world. The breath of death, like a terrifying fire, has no fear of the young or the old. This is a place of passing through, not of lingering, when death tightens the saddle of the horse of doom. Know that it is justice, not injustice; since justice has come, there is no room to complain. In the eyes of death, youth and old age are one, since there is no strength left in the body. If your heart is filled with the light of faith, better for you to stay silent, for you are a servant. You have no share in this secret of God's work, unless your soul has joined hands with the demon. In this world, strive so that, when you pass, you carry goodness with you at the end. Now let me first tell the battle of Sohrab, and how he set out to avenge himself upon his father.