Even if you support yourself with the healing rhinoceros horn,

Or defend yourself with the belt of tiger's eyeballs,

Or make use of a twig of peach to keep yourself away from faults,

Or wear a necklace of garlic buds as an amulet,

Or warm your belly with dogwood wine,

Or empty your mind with thick broth of medlar. . .

In the end you will come back—there is no way to avoid death.

It’s just a waste of yourself—your search for long life. 

                                         * * * * * * * *  

 When Zhuang-zi spoke of his last roundup,

He said, “Heaven and Earth will be my coffin.

For my return—this has its proper time;

All what I need is just the bamboo screen.

When I’m dead I'll feed the bluebottle flies;

For mourning—no need to trouble white cranes.”

For those who chose to starve to death on Mt. Shouyang,

With their honest life, death was also joyful.