The qualities all in a bee that we meet, In an epigram never should fail; The body should always be little and sweet, And a sting should be felt in its tail.

But fate ordains that dearest friends must part.

They only babble who practise not reflection

And friend received with thumps upon the back.

[The] public path of life Is dirty.

Man makes a death which Nature never made. And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one.

Ah, how unjust to Nature and himself Is thoughtless, thankless, inconsistent man!