رباعی شمارهٔ ۸

What this poem says

The poet turns here to nature's beauty and to the fleetingness of life. Clouds come, rain down on the green grass, freshening it and granting us pleasant hours that we ought to treasure and spend in joy. In the end, he reflects on how transient the world is, asking: this grass and these flowers that we now sit and gaze upon, taking our pleasure in them — after we are dead and gone, once they grow upon our own grave, who will sit and gaze at them, and take pleasure in them then?

A prose synopsis, not a translation of the verse. Translated from the Persian summary.