the gardener and the death, from Old Persia

There comes my gardener, white of fear,

into my house, "Master, master, a moment.

there in the rose garden I cut branch after branch.

I looked behind me, there stood ... the Death.

I went rapidly to the other side, but still saw the menacing of his hand.

master, your horse, let me directly go

Before evening I reach Isfahan

That afternoon, long ago he had rushed away

I met in the cedar park the Death

"Why", so i asked, because He was quiet and silent,

"did you menace my gardener this morning?

"It was not threatening for what the gardener fled,

I was astonished to see here quiet at work,

whom I had to take with me this evening in Isfahan"