Fame is not won on downy plumes nor under canopies; the man who consumes his days without obtaining it leaves such mark of himself on earth as smoke in air or foam on water.
Go right on and listen as thou goest.
A man's renown is like the hue of grass, Which comes and goes.
Still desiring, we live without hope.
Into the eternal darkness, into fire and into ice.
Like the lark that soars in the air, first singing, then silent, content with the last sweetness that satiates it, such seemed to me that image, the imprint of the Eternal Pleasure.