Green weeds grow over an earthen mound. A thousand years have buried the bones, but not the shame. In this world, full of eyes and ears, how many can truly hear and see?
When Heaven blinds its eyes, people have nothing to fear, yet the world insists on keeping its eyes open. The world's countless spectacles are too much to take in. Beyond the mountains of Wu, how many autumns lie in the distance?
A few lines of names in the annals of history, countless barren mounds at Beiman. Those who come after claim the fields of those who came before, recounting the endless battles for power.
Just watch: the heavens endure, the valleys vie in their rush of rivers, all striving to get ahead, yet they say, "The myriad roads stretch endlessly; the journey spans spring and autumn."
