bloodonmykimono:

Make merry, sing out beautiful young maidens,
For the years run down like a flowing stream.
The waters which have passed will not return
Nor can the hour which has gone come back.

The First Musician
Come mesdames and mesdemoiselles,
From world and Cloister
Widows, brides, and virgins,
And others without exception,
Whatever your condition
You all will dance in this Dance.
Like it or no you will come to it.
Whoever is wise thinks of this often.

The Second
What are your bodies, I ask you,
Pretty women, so well dressed?
They are surely meat Which one day will be given to worms
Then by worms devoured.
Of your flesh which is fresh and tender
Not even a mouthful will remain.
Afterward your worms will turn to ashes.

The Third
Comrade, your thought is good
About these presumptious women,
For their bodies will be game
Eaten one day by putrid worms.
And could they be preserved
For gold, silver, or any other thing?
No, no. Many there are who are mistaken. Whoever mends not his ways deceives himself.

The Fourth
Women, imagine yourselves in a heap
Of bones from people who have died,
Who have filled many worldly roles
In their time past
And [who] now are piled
One on the other, fat and thin,
So you will be, think of that now,
Rotted flesh, bones all bare.