Living in this world with its fleeting days and teeming millions, what can I do but waver and wander and live a transient life? What have I been doing during the 8,000 fleeting days except wavering and wandering? The bygone days, like wisps of smoke, have been dispered by gentle winds, and, like thin mists, have been envaporated by the rising sun. What traces have I left behind? No,nothing,not even gossamer-like traces.



