II: We live and we die, nothing more. 

There are love, just not together.

Life and death come abruptly, what a pity.

We are passerby between mountain and river;

We live and we die, nothing more. 

People are like autumn clouds, their worries shrouded.

Today, it may rain, but tomorrow, the sun rise even brighter;

How can we tell without opening the window?

Sometimes, people thoughts rest on meadows,

Their worries resembling an aged widow;

Who can't tell if they suffer or wallow?