And as he, who with laboring breath has escaped from the deep to the shore, turns to the perilous waters and gazes.
Seldom indeed does human virtue rise From trunk to branch.
This sorrow weighs upon the melancholy souls of those who lived without infamy or praise.
From a small spark, Great flame has risen.
O human race, born to fly upward, wherefore at a little wind dost thou so fall?
The wisest are the most annoyed at the loss of time.