Since Life is but a Dream, Why toil to no avail?
The world is like a great empty dream. Why should one toil away one's life?
The living is a passing traveler; The dead, a man come home.
Heaven is high, Earth Wide. Bitter between them flies my sorrow.
I bow in reverence to the white cloud.
Bears, dragons, tempestuous on mountain and river, Startle the forest and make the heights tremble. Clouds darken beneath the darkness of rain, streams pale with a pallor of mist. The gods of Thunder and Lightning Shatter the whole range.