As the evening of life drew near and the dark shadow of age descended upon the mortal frame, a tragic lament arose from the depth of the poet's soul, calling out to the revolving heavens: 'O soaring firmament, why hast thou cast me down into bitter wretchedness in my old age? When I was young, thou didst hold me close in thy embrace; why now abandon me to cold humiliation? The triumphant rose of youth turns pale, and the soft silk of vitality is shredded into thorns of affliction. The proud cypress of the garden now bows low, and the precious lamp of life grows dim. White snow has fallen upon the dark mountains of hair, and no loyalty or wisdom is found in thy dark turnings. Would that thou hadst never raised me, rather than nurturing me only to torment my soul! When I pass beyond this cosmic darkness, I shall recount thy tyranny before the Almighty Sovereign Judge.'
Yet the high sphere responded through the celestial calm: 'O eloquent seeker of truth, free of malice! Why attribute the ebbs and flows of destiny unto me? How does such lamentation suit a soul imbued with wisdom? Thou art superior to me in every measure, for thou hast nourished thy spirit with knowledge. Neither I, nor the sun, nor the moon hold the secrets of fate. Thy sleeping, thy eating, thy intellect, and thy paths to good or evil are beyond my reach. Seek thy way from Him who created the path itself—He who fashioned night and day, sun and moon; the One whose existence has no beginning and no end, who speaks the Word and all things come to be. I am but a bound servant of His divine justice, rotating only by His supreme command. Turn then thy heart to Yazdan, take refuge in the Almighty, acknowledge Him alone as the Illuminator of Venus, Moon, and Sun, and send eternal blessings upon the soul of Muhammad and his companions!'