THE INTELLIGENT CORPSEA beggar in the graveyard cried:"Awake, my friend, be satisfiedTo live again and bear the weightOf poverty; for I of lateAm weary grown; my heart is ledTo crave the comfort of the dead."The corpse was silent; he was sure'Twas better to be dead than poor. — From Bhartṛhari
‘Stop but a moment, friend, and rise and carry The burden of my weary poverty’But the dead man, who would not change his peaceFor poverty, said nothing in reply.
“Rise up and bear one second's spaceGrim penury's awful load;Let me o'erwearied take thy placeIn Pluto's dark abode.”—A poor man thus a corpse bespake;The corpse, preferring deathTo want, would not its silence breakFor all his waste of breath.