When did I hear the trumpet of life, from gaining knowledge and wisdom
However, death horns can be heard, anytime
And we have to depart, leaving everything in this world.

Life is a moving train, doesn't know how to stop
On the way there is never a moment's delay, and obey only its own law.

Its movement is only towards the front, doesn't know how to look back
It never kept the track of who came and who went.

In this way, on the way of life, we have to cross barely
It moves on at its own pace, no hurry.