The foolish choose the worse, the world’s fatuity.
Each bird will flock with birds of its own feather still;
The cock well knows his mate, and follows where she will.
Miscreants are the brood of hell, to which they go;
The goods of worldly life they choose. Then be it so.
The prophets are of race from heaven deriving birth;
To heaven they tend with heart and soul while here on earth.
’Twould never end the branches of this theme to count.
So let us sip again from our old story’s fount.330
Within his cell ensconced, the Vazīr answer gave: