The birds have vanished into the sky, and now the last cloud drains away. We sit together, the mountain and me, until only the mountain remains.

To find pleasure in life, make the most of the spring.

I bow in reverence to the white cloud.

The paired butterflies are already yellow with August Over the grass in the West garden; They hurt me. I grow older.

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.

Forever and forever and forever

Since Life is but a Dream, Why toil to no avail?