The man who lies asleep will never waken fame, and his desire and all his life drift past him like a dream, and the traces of his memory fade from time like smoke in air, or ripples on a stream.
Lying in a featherbed will bring you no fame, nor staying beneath the quilt, and he who uses up his life without achieving fame leaves no more vestige of himself on Earth than smoke in the air or foam upon the water.
Worldly fame is but a breath of wind that blows now this way, and now that, and changes name as it changes direction.
A man's renown is like the hue of grass, Which comes and goes.
The splendors that belong unto the fame of earth are but a wind, that in the same direction lasts not long.
Fame is not won on downy plumes nor under canopies; the man who consumes his days without obtaining it leaves such mark of himself on earth as smoke in air or foam on water.
Your fame is as the grass, whose hue comes and goes, and His might withers it by whose power it sprang from the lap of the earth.
The man who lies asleep will never waken fame.
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