The masses of people are joyful,
feasting on a delicious banquet,
as though climbing a terrace in spring.
I am without desire, without anticipation,
as an infant who has not yet smiled.
Tired, like one having nowhere to return.
The masses of people have excess;
I alone have not enough.
I have the heart of a fool.
I alone am stupid.
Ordinary people are clever.
I alone am confused.
Ordinary people are cunning.
I alone am dull.
Unfathomable – as the ocean.
Boundless – without shape.
Ordinary people have a purpose.
I alone am stubborn and uncouth.
I am different from the others,
taking my sustenance from the mother.