So euphemistically, someone might breathe their last, but dysphemistically, that old geezer down the road finally bit the dust.

委婉地说，有人可能会呼吸最后一口气，但委婉地说， 路上的那个老家伙终于咬住了灰尘。

We are the clouds, the rocks, the beetle climbing arduously up the bark of a tree, a baby being born on another continent, a nonagenarian breathing their last, a line in a poem and a star expiring in a distant galaxy.

我们是云朵，是岩石，是努力爬上树皮的甲虫，是在另一个大陆上出生的婴儿，是垂垂老矣的老人，是诗中的一行，是在遥远星系中逝去的星星。