Burial songs: 1
Whatever will live will die. I died young, though not shortchanged by fate. Last night I was like anyone else. This morning I’m listed among ghosts. The spirit thins away who knows where, leaving a dry body inside hollow timber. Looking for their father, my pampered children cry. Friends touch me, sobbing. But I’ll never know gain and loss again, or worry over good and evil. After some thousand autumns or ten thousand years, who knows honor from disgrace? Of my time in the world, I only regret drinking so often without enough wine.
translated by: David Hinton