Is this a good prologue for a book?

The bards say that when a man does everything he can do, as he grows old, and time passes him by that he turns bitter with the life he has lead. That he blames the gods, his birth, everything that he has encountered, for the mistakes he has made. Perhaps I am such a man, however as I sit here on my deathbed, I can truly say that I am not disappointed in my life as it was lead, and here I will be spoken of by the bards till the end…