Prevod

Old age weighed heavily on a horse, and in place of battle he found himself in a mill. Forced to grind grain instead of fighting, he wept over his present lot and recalled his former life. “Once, miller,” he said, “I used to go to war, with fine trappings covering my whole body and a man walking beside me to tend me. But now, through some misfortune I cannot fathom, I have exchanged the battlefield for the mill.” “Stop harping on the past,” the miller replied. “Fortune knows how to change mortal lives for better or for worse.”