Water spilt on level ground,
Runs north, south, east and west.
So man's life is ruled by Fate,
Why be sighing as we journey,
Grieving as we rest?
Pour out wine and let us take our ease!
Raise our goblets, sing no more
Of the weary road.
My heart is not unfeeling wood or stone—
Yet I hesitate, swallow my plaint,
Not daring to speak.