"In Suna’s town, my child’s life passed away; How can I tell the sadness of that day! As fair as Joseph, God creates a slave; Then, Jonah-like, he’s swallow’d by the grave. In this fair world, scarce grown, the cypress form Uprooted is, by death’s relentless storm. It is not strange the rose on earth should grow, So many rose-like bodies sleep below. Madly I longed to see his form once more, So off the tomb the weighty stone I tore. Fear seized me in that place, so dark and strange: It made me shake, and all my color change. Then came a voice (my child’s) from out the bier: "Dost thou feel terror at this darksome sight? Live, then, with care, and let thy works be bright. If thou dost wish thy grave as light as day, Illume life’s lamp with virtue’s shining ray." Saadi, he eats the fruit who plants the tree; Who sows the seed will fruitful harvests see."