183 – Ahmad ibn Yahya recited to me his poem:

Prepare for death, O soul, and hasten to salvation,
for the truly prudent is the one who makes ready.

I have learned that no living being is everlasting,
and that there is no escape from death.

You grow heedless, yet events are never heedless;
you amuse yourself, while fate presses on in earnest.

You are but a loan that will soon be reclaimed—
all borrowed goods are eventually returned.

So pin no hope on abiding in the very mine of death,
in a dwelling whose dues will surely be exacted.

What sovereignty on earth, what portion can one claim
when his share of it is nothing but a grave?

How can you delight in a matter whose fleeting days of pleasure
are counted out in mere breaths?