How sparse are the ancients, alas! Why does my thought of them never fade?
Alone I was born so late, alas! Never could I with them keep company.
Vast is this age, yet they are unseen, alas! Thus I heave sighs and lament long.
I stroke the legacy books and gaze profoundly, alas! Glad that what I've heard is worthy of honor.
Their loyal hearts, shining bright, alas! Truly, though gone, in essence they live on.
If I trace the wind and reach afar in spirit, alas! What difference then between ancient and now?
I behold the primal changes—boundless, alas! And feel the passing scene swift as a gallop.
My hair grows thin and sparse, alas! My heart is filled with earnest care.
I'd yoke yellow dragons for a distant journey, alas! And gaze up at the transcendent, lofty track.
Ah, the sage's words are like heaven, alas! The ultimate Way is like the sea.
Beyond the primordial chaos—where is the limit? alas! Peering into the vast expanse—no shore in sight.
Who will guide me to the right path? alas! That I may tread the level road with ease.
Only the clear-sighted, understanding friend, alas! Can perhaps correct my muddled confusion.
Alas! Ah! The ancients, oh! Their grace to me knows no bounds.
Suddenly unseen—how my heart aches! My longing for them—how could it ever be forgotten?
Those gone are beyond reach, those to come may still be hoped for.
Without your harmony, my lord, who would wander so free and unfettered?