While the rich embitter their lives

By incessant labour, they strive

To accumulate more wealth

Than they can digest; while they act thus

For their bodily comfort,

They make it external to themselves.

Those who seek for honours

Carry their pursuit of them,

Striving from the day into the night

Full of anxiety about their methods,

Whether they are qualified or not.

While they act thus for their bodily pleasure

They treat it as if it is indifferent to them.

The birth of man is at the same time

The birth of his lifespan sorrow;

And if he lives long, he becomes more

And more foolish--the longer his anxiety is

That he may not die. . .

How great is the bitterness of life!

While man does all and everything

For his bodily enjoyment, it is still

For a distant and often illusory purpose.

As to what the common people do

And what they find their enjoyment in,

I do not know whether their enjoyment

Is really enjoyment or really not.

I see them in their pursuit of it,

Following after all their objectives,

As if with the determination of death,

As if they could not stop in their doom.

But what they call "enjoyment"

Would not be so to me, while yet

I do not say that there's no enjoyment in it.

Is there such enjoyment or is there not?

I consider doing nothing to obtain it

To be the great enjoyment while ordinarily

Men consider it to be great evil.

Therefore it is said that perfect enjoyment

Is to be with no enjoyment;

The highest praise is to be without praise.