T here was a certain man who lived alone. He did not have a son or a brother. Yet he worked all the time. His eyes were never happy with the riches he had, and he never asked, “For whom am I working and why am I keeping myself from happiness?” This also is for nothing. It is work that brings sorrow. A True Friend
Има такъв, който е самичък, който няма другар, Да! Няма нито син, нито брат; Но пак няма край на многото му труд, Нито се насища окото му с богатство; И той не дума: За кого, прочее, се трудя аз И лишавам душата си от благо? И това е суета и тежък труд.
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