At the end of a meal,
A man wipes his mouth,
Food parts, tastes of spices.
There is the satisfied,
Whose bowl full to overflow,
And there is the hungry,
Whose bread slice is meager.

At the end of a day,
A man ceases from his toil,
His sweat accumulated, his weariness growing.
There is the wealthy,
Whose crops are plentiful,
And there is the pauper,
Whose field is poor.

At the end of a journey,
A man rests at his destination,
His legs ache, the road dust in his clothes.
There is the one who traveled far,
Whose stride is assured,
And there is the restricted,
Whose step uncertain.

Success who shall foresee,
A man displays his legacy,
His family, friends,
His road companions, even his enemies,
Who is brave to hold to the reins,
Go out and plow,
Carry the load.