I went to the root of things, and found nothing but Him alone.
Some praise me, some blame me. I go the other way.
O my companion, Worldly comfort is an illusion, As soon you get it, it goes.
Only those who have felt the knife can understand the wound, only the jeweller knows the nature of the jewel.
He lives century after century, and the test I set for him he has passed.
What is beyond the mind, has no boundary, In it our senses end.