In the outer world You've remained;
You are also at my core.
So for whom do You go on making sport;
By ever seeking, why am I overwrought?
Only what is not desired You go on requiring;
What is not wished by me You ask from me only.
On a stream of exigency in the realm of thought,
To Your work myself You draw.
What's not done, that only You go on doing;
You give value to a puny me.
By knowledge and action churning core,
In a hundred garbs You adorn.
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All that I comprehend is that I am Your puppet.
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