Old men, what are they? Fast fading the leaf, Three-footed they walk, yet frail as a child, As a dream set afloat in the daylight.

Arrogance is truly the child of impiety, but from health of soul comes happiness, dear to all, much prayed for.

The so-called mother of the child isn't the child's begetter, but only a sort of nursing soil for the new-sown seed. The man, the one on top, is the true parent, while she, a stranger, foster's a stranger's sprout.

Beyond age, leaf withered, man goes three footed no stronger than a child is, a dream that falters in daylight.