I will deck thee with trophy garland of my defeat. It is never in my power to escape unconquered. I surely know my pride will go to the wall, my empty heart will sob out in music as like a hollow reed, and the stone will melt in tears.
I surely know the hundred petals of a lotus will not remain closed for ever and the secret recess of its honey will be bared. From the blue sky an eye will gaze upon me and silently will call me out in the open. Nothing will be left from me nothing whatever, and utter death shall I receive at the feet.5