To them loving wealth,
loving humans is hard;
Who will love you,
without a human heart?
You who came alone,
alone has to go;
Neither you are immortal,
nor the river's flow.
The past you have,
is the past you had;
The path has more to offer,
let go off that.
Imagine life,
itself a bliss;
Purely ephemeral,
you, on the deathbed, will miss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem