English Rendering
I still remember in my prime
I could be happy in sad time.
Over the four seas I aimed high;
Spreading my wing I dreamed to fly.
But youthful days passed and grew old,
My zeal for life as soon turned cold.
Delightful things were not enjoyed;
Worries and cares often annoyed.
I feel my youthful strength no more,
Each day not as the day before.
Time like a stream will pass away;
And leads me on without delay.
How far ahead should I still float?
I know not where to moor my boat.
The ancients had no time to waste.
How can late-comers make no haste?