Muntakhab al-tawarikh 189: Couplet ‘Our life is as ice in the heat of summer; But little of it remains and its owner is still deceived.’

189

And my recording the dates of the deaths of the men of whom I write resembles the case of that tailor who in a certain city had his shop by the gate of the graveyard, and hung an earthen pot from a nail in his door, his only care being to drop a stone in the pot for every funeral which came from the city. Every month he used to count the stones, saying, ‘They have carried away so many to burial!’ Then he would empty the pot and hang it again on the nail, dropping stones into it as before, till another month had passed. It so happened that the master tailor died, and a man who had not heard of his death came to demand his services. He found the door of his shop shut, and asked a neighbour whither the tailor had gone. The neighbour replied: ‘He too has gone into the pot!’