Summer and fall slip away; the months and years go by;
yesterday is spent, and today draws to a close.
Little did I know that I would grow old before I knew it,
with the unnoticed passage of the years.
On occasion during that time,
I must have known the beauty
of flowers and birds, of the breeze and the moon;
I must also have met with the joy and sorrow of pleasure and pain.
But now there is not even a single instance
that I remember in detail.
How sad it is to have grown gray with age,
having done no more than pass my nights and days to no purpose!
When I deeply reflect on the apparent soundness of my own existence,
not yet been called away by the relentless wind of impermanence,
it seems like a dream, like an illusion.
As for now, there is nothing left but to aspire
to the one way out of birth and death.