If you hide away your hut in the ravine of a hill

And hide then the hill in a lake, you would say

That the hut is surely secure. But at midnight

There shall come a strong giant and carry it off

On his back, broad like a highway, while you

Remain in the dark, knowing nothing about this.

You might hide away anything you like,

Whether small or great, in the most suitable place

And yet, it will then be vanished from there.

But if you could hide the world in the world,

So that there is nowhere to which spare space

It could be removed, this would be the grand reality

Of the everlasting something styled 'thing-in-itself.'

When the body of man comes from its unique

Earthen mould, there is then occasion for joy,

But this body undergoes the myriad changes

And does not immediately reach its perfect state--

Does it not thus afford occasion for endless joy?

Hence, the sagely minded man enjoys himself

In that from which there is no possibility

Of removal in any way, by which all things

Are preserved in their proper placements.

If he considers early death or old age, beginning

And ending--all to be good, and in this all others

Imitate him; so, how much more will they do so

In regard to that heavenly notion of thing-in-itself,

On which all beings depend and from which

Every single transformation in the world arises!