Look at those teams of horses bent
with goods from far exotic places.
Water also carries traces
of silt from some strange continent.
Wind from a thousand miles astray
sweeps in with sighs of foreign towns.
We rove through streams and hilly downs
that we possess then give away.
Like flying birds that float and dive,
sometimes we’re emperors of space
and sometimes fall through nullity.
What is the truth of how we live?
We carry nothing from that far place;
nothing comes with us when we leave.