Time, Aim and Action

Time at its self speed is rolling down You are still wrapped in winter gown, To leave the station train is whistling on You are still long far from the station; Spring, summer are passing around Time at its self speed is rolling down Conscious people are in their field For cultivating they are preparing land; You are passing time in unknown whim Without developing your main aim, Time at its self speed is rolling down But you are involved in well nothing; During fall you have got your field clear Now eagerly waiting for coming winter Without pleasure more you do nothing Time at its self speed is rolling down.