For A Murderous Blow Let Murderous Blow

Only When A Man's Life Comes To Its End In Prosperity Dare We Pronounce Him Happy.

In Visions Of The Night, Like Dropping Rain, Descend The Many Memories Of Pain.

It Is Easy When We Are In Prosperity To Give Advice To The Afflicted.

Human Prosperity Never Rests But Always Craves More, Till Blown Up With Pride It Totters And Falls. From The Opulent Mansions Pointed At By All Passers-by None Warns It Away, None Cries, 'let No More Riches Enter!'.

There Is No Pain So Great As The Memory Of Joy In Present Grief.