Listen dear one, listen
and know thyself to be the only obstruction

It is not the aggravation of the one who’s close at hand
Nor the impatience of your mother, who portions reprimand

It is not the sullen ire of those who hold you in contempt
Nor the chorus of daft voices, drifting ever like a blimp

You cannot point at this or that
or cast your blame on others

The internal quality of the soul
is yours alone, my brothers

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