A Warning from the Fate of Shah Sheikh Abu Ishaq

The crown-granting king, ruler of the world, Amir Sheikh, whose fame for good fortune and generosity filled the earth. A king like Kay-Qobad, a warrior like Afrasiab, he took his realm as Shah Sanjar and Shah Ardavan once did. He backed the faith with the strength of wise, seasoned counsel, and seized the face of the earth with the arm of youthful luck. In pleasure he set up the manner of Khosrow, in rule and justice he took up the way of Nushirvan. He raised up halls and palaces, gardens like paradise, and sat there happy, lifting the cup in joy. Every servant who found a place at his door came to think himself a mighty prince, a lord of his age. Now look at the trick fate played: how ruin took the reins of his fortune. Suddenly a sea of disaster surged and boiled, swallowing his kingdom, his treasury, and his son together. What burning and weeping shattered that structure! What smoke of grieving filled that great house! That garden mansion, whose color, scent, and splendor lent the highest heaven its glory, has now come to this: where the nightingale once sang, a black-hearted crow arrived and made its home. The palace from whose glory the phoenix drew good fortune, now a stray dog has whelped there and the owl has nested. From the ways of time and the stability of the world, Obeid, one could take a thousand lessons from this. Poor helpless man, since in any case he has no power, let him blame neither the stars nor the sky. Happy is the fortunate soul who set no heart on the world; at peace is the mind that turned away from it.