Oh girl what are you sad for,
O son who are you earning for.
what are you so busy for,
as if together in a shoal.
The life and riches you run after.
doesn't remain with you thereafter.
as a flower blossoms to wither,
so does your riches, pile and plunder.
Time has its own pace,
the harder you try to embrace
like the sand in a fist
it flies away from yout wrist.
It's hard to see you cry
beleive me I with you cry
but nevertheless I'm shy
to see all my labour die
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