Some live,
When they are already dead;
Others have died,
But are still alive.

Some
Ride on the backs of the people and cry: "How grand am I!"
Others
Silently bend to draw the people's plough.

Some
Inscribe their names on stone;
Others
Choose to be wild grass,
Await an eruption of fire.

The lives of some
Make life impossible for others.
The lives of others
Enable the majority to live better.

Those who ride on the backs of the people
Will be thrown to the ground;
Those who plough for them
Will be cherished in their memory for ever.

The names inscribed on stone
Will rot sooner than their namesake flesh.
Wherever the spring wind reaches,
There will be green grass.

Lives that preclude others lives
Come to a predictable end.
Lives that create better lives
Will be deeply revered.