THE chariot knows not whether it is carving its way through
a narrow path or the main road way.
Neither the diamond knows whether it is lying
in the dust or on the Crown;
Nor the ornament can brand its owner into a thief or a gentleman
Thus I too know not whether the path on which I trot is good or bad.
That is why I chose Thee as the Driver
of my wild-horse chariot, Mother!
Under the spell of opium one can’t be eager for good advise.
The wine jar could amass no good qualities for its contents
simply because it has been dipped in Ganges.
Likewise, Thy love is not filling my core, Mother!
Nor my poor understanding gather the depths of Thy love, Mother!!