Will I die first, or will my neighbor?
Will it be today or tomorrow? We do not know.
Those we leave behind and those who go before us
are more numerous than the dewdrops
that rest briefly beneath the trees and on their leaf tips.
We may have radiant faces in the morning,
but in the evening be no more than white bones.
With the coming of the winds of impermanence,
both eyes are instantly closed,
and when a single breath is forever stilled,
the radiant face is drained of life,
and its vibrant glow is lost.
Although family and relatives may gather
and grieve broken-heartedly, it is to no avail.
As there is nothing else to be done,
the once-familiar form is taken to an outlying field,
and when it has vanished with the midnight smoke,
nothing is left but white bones.
This is indeed indescribably sad.