Where do they go, those things that we value?
We look around for them, find them nowhere,
Go out to gather them, grasp them in vain,
Brush ourselves by them, bend to take them,
Maybe a moment might we hold them
But they pass away, and we seek again.
No thing endures. Never content,
To gather up goods we go out again,
And other look on at our departure,
Asking where we go, we whom they value.
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