Mortality by Tom Sharp

Earth is only a caravansary; only the dead are at home. We walk in the dust of eternity; our sorrow earns us nothing. Even the goddess of the moon pounds her medicine in vain. We’ve burned the sacred tree trying to stay warm. Fame on earth is like a sigh— it has no lasting consequence.

拟古十二首(其九) by 李白 (Li Bai)

生者为过客,死者为归人。 天地一逆旅,同悲万古尘。 月兔空捣药,扶桑已成薪。 白骨寂无言,青松岂知春。 前后更叹息,浮荣何足珍?