Time sweeps through
The stairs of life and death
Neither beginning nor an end
We drift along the edge of time
Like bamboos in the river with no control.
The Fine hands of creation had
Woven time into this tissue,
Into the brain and veins
So that how hard men may try
Time shall always win.
One day I am there with you,
The next day I am gone,
Leaves fall; with time snow gather
And cover up the soil,
Plants freeze and wilt,
Then grow with sunshine again
Flowers blossom,
Then fruits ripen and fall
This body one day shall too
Fall and mix with the soil-
With time, then shall again the skin of a newborn
Wither beauty into wrinkles old
With the wind and the sun.
Wars are fought, whether won and lost,
A heap of corpse wilt and decay
Blood soak into the soil and turn
Into humus, plants grow with sunshine
Blood hide under the sweetness of grape wine.
