Elegy written on my tombstone (parvin Etessami)
This body that has earth for its pillow
Is parvin, the star of heaven of literature
Though her lot in life was nothing but misfortune,
Yet, her words are sweet as you like.
The composer of all these songs
Is today a beggar of hymns and prayers.
It would be fine if friends remember her;
For, a friendless heart is sorrowful one.
It is terrible to have earth in the eye,
And a stone is too heavy on the chest.
He who possesses discerning eyes
Will take a lesson on seeing this tomb.
Whoever you are and whenever you come from,
This is the last abode of existence.
A person, whoever rich he may be,
Will find himself poor on reaching this point.
Whenever destiny resorts to its assaults,
There is no other alternative but submission
The way of world has always been
To give birth, to kill and to bury.
Blessed is he who in this abode of affliction,
Has a mind that brings him tranquility…