My heart pounds, the water runs cold,
Who am I running for, and who am I working for?
Life is a grand dream, a hundred years in all.
In youth, I knew nothing of rice, oil, salt, or grain,
Only envied mandarin ducks, warm on the sand, and branches twined together.
At thirty, with maturity comes fresh sorrow:
Feeding little ones below, caring for parents above.
In old age, both temples are frosted white,
A flickering candle in the wind, a body stiff with illness.
Everyone drifts through this mortal world. Why resent it?
Why should I live downstream while he climbs to the heights?
A great fire sent Xiao Ye transmigrating to the Xuantian Continent,
Where three teachings stand together and a hundred schools contend.
To find a way back,
Xiao Ye embarks on a long road of cultivation.
Is it all a twist of fate,
Or a burden from past lives that cannot be cast off?
For now, let Xiao Ye grab a late-night snack!
Good-looking, humorous, and literary.
Come and comment!