Rushing about all day for hunger; only once I’ve eaten fully do I think of clothes.

With both food and clothing well provided, I still yearn for a beautiful wife.
Marry a beauty, bear a child—yet I resent having too little land, too few foundations.
The farmland I purchase is broad and vast, but when I go out I still find there aren’t enough horses to ride.
At the stable, they’ve tied up oxen, mules, and horses—afraid that without an official post I’ll be bullied by others.
Even a seventh-rank county magistrate seems too small, and I also want to have purple robes attached to my name at court.
With a top first-rank position as prime minister, I still want to seize the mountains and rivers, to rival the imperial throne.
Once I’m content as the Son of Heaven, I still want immortality and to live forever.
Once I manage to obtain the elixir of longevity, I’ll then debate with God as to who is higher.
Still not enough, not knowing contentment—how, then, can life end up as it is?
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