Sunflowers in the field are purest green,
The morning dew waits for the sun to dry it.
The warm spring spreads around its favours,
Ten thousand things are growing in the radiance.
I often fear that autumn's season will come,
Flowers and leaves will yellow and wither and wane.
The hundred rivers flow east towards the sea,
When will they come back to the west again?
If the young and vigorous do not work hard,
In old age, they will be sorry in vain. 

Song
Han Yuefu