The lonely one complains, the married one grumbles.
Discontent will always be found,
It will not pass.
What we have, we do not notice.
We turn over what we have gathered,
We yearn for what is absent.

To fret over lack —
To give oneself to emptiness,
To chase a better fate
As one chases the wind.

And the treasures —
Here they are,
In the crowd and in solitude — only recognize them.
Value what you have,
Bow and take it.
Don’t even search —
Rejoice and have.