Plod earnestly along a narrow path
Sorrowful; wiping tears but they burst forth

As just evening, things are lost in the gray shadow
Then in a broad expanse of mustard flowers by meadow
Gold suddenly fly asunder around

Getting a scattered gold in my hand
Throwing it,
Throwing it into the sky, I walk

Although the impression of a moment is most
Yet it now vanishes like a ghost
It may be as well as the spring of my youth

Plod earnestly along a narrow path
Sorrowful heart; wiping tears but they burst forth