Obstinate are the trammels, but my
heart aches when I try to break them.
Freedom is all I want, but to hope
for it I feel ashamed.
I am certain that priceless wealth is
in thee, and that thou art my best
friend, but I have not the heart to
sweep away the tinsel that fills my
The shroud that covers me is a
shroud of dust and death; I hate it,
yet hug it in love.
My debts are large, my failures great,
my shame secret and heavy; yet when
I come to ask for my good, I quake in
fear lest my prayer be granted.