Anicca: Impermanence
Assembled things come apart. The vanity in these days is hevel, a puff of breath on a cold morning, there for a second and then gone, and every day handed to you under the sun has that shape. Loving a woman inside a vapor is the only kind of loving anyone has ever done, so the shortness is the setting for the joy rather than an argument against it.
Maraṇassati: Mindfulness of death
Keeping your own death in plain view is maraṇassati. The counsel comes straight from the graveside, where the dead know nothing and no work gets done, and the days get counted from there: all the days of your life, a finite pile. Sitting down to supper with her tonight, you are spending one of a fixed number of such suppers, which is what makes tonight worth your attention.
Appamāda: Heedfulness
Heedfulness is doing the needed thing while the chance is still open. Live joyfully is an order, given to someone who has just been staring into Sheol, and the reply to a short life is to stop postponing the good that is in it. Eat the bread while it is warm; the days it belongs to are already spending themselves.
Piyehi vippayogo: Parting from what is dear
Whatever is held dear gets let go of eventually. Love and counting arrive in the same breath here, the wife you love standing inside the tally of your days, and the arithmetic is plain: one of you will close the other's eyes. To love her while knowing that makes the loving careful, the way you carry something borrowed with both hands.
Santuṭṭhi: Contentment
Contentment is treating what you have as enough. Your portion is a served share, one plate handed to you at the table, and this plate holds a marriage and a lifetime of labor under the sun. The instruction is to eat what is on it with appetite while it sits in front of you.