Singer of life, all flower are songs, with petals do you write.
Singer of life, you color the earth, dazzling the eye with birds red and bright.
Joy is for us! The flowers are spread.
Singing is our delight!
Mortal are we, with all living things, with eagles in the sky
Even all gold and jade will not last; singing alone, I know cannot die.
Here this house of springtime bestow
Songs that like birds can fly.