When sixty-five years of life had weighed upon the weary brow, the burden of thought and sorrow grew ever heavier. The noble and wealthy of the realm stood distant, offering naught but empty praise and cold acclaim while keeping their coin-purses tightly sealed, leaving decades of monumental labor rewarded only by hollow bravos. Yet, amidst the cold silence of the world, noble souls stepped forth—Ali Deylami lent his steady support, and Huseyn Qatib, a patron of true generosity, ensured that food, raiment, and gold were never lacking, freeing the spirit from the anxieties of taxation and poverty.
Thus, as the seventy-first year arrived, the sublime power of verse placed the very heavens beneath its poetic couplets. The grand chronicle of the Iranian kings and the tragic end of Yazdegerd reached its ultimate conclusion on the day of Ard in the month of Esfandarmadh, four hundred years after the Hijra. Though earthly rulers proved tight-fisted and blind to its grandeur, the crown of language was raised beyond the stars. The eternal seed of words was sown across the soil of the world; and so long as wisdom, intellect, and faith endure in the hearts of humankind, the author of this mighty epic shall never die, living forever in the eternal praises of generations to come.