Plod earnestly along a narrow path
Sorrowful; wiping tears but they burst forth
Just evening, things are lost in the gray shadow
Then gold suddenly fly asunder around
In a broad expanse of mustard flowers by meadow
Getting a scattered gold in my hand
Throwing it, throwing it into the sky, I walk
Although the impression of a moment is most
It may be as well as the spring of my youth,
Now vanishes like a very ghost
Plod earnestly along a narrow path
Sorrowful; wiping tears but they burst forth
