Life is but an empty dream,
Who could catch the air,
I can tell deep down from my heart,
All things are not what they seem,
For the one that slumbers is dead already.

Today is a different day,
Like the stage prepared for dancers,
Each one with a dancing step,
Shows what dance they can dance,
So, we live in a stage,
Strange as it may appear,
Everyone is an actor,
The good, the bad, and the ugly.

Many chasing shadows,
In the world’s broad field of battle,
Who retreats early,
From a dance displayed in arrogance of demeanor,
Same is counted as wise,
He trod under feet the deadliest;
Of all things ever known to man,
The old source of fall,
From classical antiquity, pride.

Tell me not in mournful tune,
I have been numbered,
I have been counted,
Should I tread on that old strange path,
I could in retreat,
Retrace my wayward path,
For long, before we were conceived,
A path clear and pure was given,
For a guide in an open arena,
Of various actors.

Life is an empty dream,
But the future ahead is pure,
We could all walk on that street of gold,
Clear as crystal, with never ending joy,
A reality that could be followed,
Only with these three things shown to us,
Simple is what is required,
To do justly,
To love mercy,
And to walk humbly.