Sorrowing at the Impermanence of Life

Since that time far off
when heaven and earth began,
the world has been a place
where nothing goes unchanged —
so it has been told
over the ages.
And when I look up
to scan the fields of heaven
I see the bright moon
waxing and waning,
and those treetops there
on the foot-wearying mountain —
when spring comes
their blossoms open and shine,
but with autumn
dew and frost will blanket them,
the winds worry them
till their yellow leaves have scattered.
And we of this world
are the same, it seems —
the glow of red faces
fading away,
hair black as leopard-flower seeds
that loses its color,
the morning smile
vanished by evening —
like the buffeting wind
that no eye can see,
like flowing water
that never rests,
nothing is constant,
everything changes,
and seeing it, my tears
fall in sudden showers
and I cannot make them stop.


Even the trees that speak no word
flower in spring
and when fall comes
scatter their yellow leaves —
for nothing goes unchanged

When I see how in this life
nothing remains constant,
I hold my heart
apart from the world
and spend many days in thought
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