1. The days have buffeted me, buffeting of the tanner,
So I donned a robe of mature, sweet-tasting patience,

2. And the two moons have shown me in their darkness
A clear, elegant tent pitched over the high ground,

3. And I have tried my hand in earnest, but my wits failed me,
So I sat, helpless, hesitant, or distraught,

4. And found my fortune being gnawed by constant gnawer,
And I was struck by my fate with a piercing star.