Though the passing ages find us
little more than chaff to spread,
let the winds that strike remind us
all will ever soon be dead,
all will surely fall and fly,
mortals all for death are bred.
Though we winds and time defy,
though the sands we seek to stay,
all too soon the sands will hie,
all too soon will die the day.
Hear this burden all must say—
naught do mortal hearts defy,
all too soon will die the day,
night must fade thus, by and by.
All to dust, decay are led,
all too soon the sands will hie,
thus, when pleasures leave their stead,
let the winds that strike remind us
mortals all for death are bred.