Worldly affairs—they wind us round and round;
Even those who cling to life sooner or later must resign.
If you want to grind to extinction all rocks in the great land,
When will you have time to lay your head?
The four seasons go round as they transmute and change;
All the eight solar terms run fast like rapids.
Before you can recover your burning house,
You first should ride a lot the white cow in the wasteland.
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