Pile up treasures; rise and fall.
And want the lake and not the land fall,
Hold the bizarre beast, I wish wife.
My life is abandoned to the Life.
Behold an ideal idol of a wife:
The down fall will soon be late,
Whilst the crescent lake will wait;
This day will emerge another life.
Now bread and butter set on the table,
But miss the compassionate ring of able,
And call for the lonely wandering widower,
This moment can’t afford losing her.
Should I accept the defeat of livelihood,
And immortalize the spirit of widowhood?
My life is given to the Light.
These episodes of testing I can’t face:
I plant prayer for its erase,
And wind for a save and safe alight.