A life is but a span
like the lifetime of a cicada
Even the while joy and sadness
are each other interwoven with.
Or it's like parching beans in a pan
popping, dancing in rapid cadence
as if it causes to madness
It also is a repetition of a quiz

A life is but a span
No necessity of killing in warfare
Even if it doesn't build the bodies'
mound, life disappears transitorily.
So dance merrily with a flute of Pan
See floweres bloom in openair
Don't say even no money to keep body
It's with honest poverty of white lily

A life is but a span
There's little time left behind to me
The dream is packed full of brainpan
But it doesn't become a worker bee