I ask when the green mountains will grow old,

The green mountains ask when I will be at leisure.
The green mountains do not age, and I am not at leisure.
A lifetime of busyness for oil and salt,
Decades of wind and rain.
In the blink of an eye, yellow earth buries my chest.
I laugh that the green mountains' face remains unchanged,
The green mountains laugh that I am already in my old age,
Like a cow, unable to rest until old age,
Once at leisure, I share it with the mountains.
I am an ordinary person, not a fairy,
When things happen, I can only ask the heavens,
Why is spring only allowed to return,
But I am not allowed to be young again.
All in, pi