Sometimes you look up to others in esteem --
How heads of theirs are rising to the stars!
Sometimes 'so yet, you look down upon them
Those who've been flatten'd to the feet of yours.
But looking straight at your own life you see
Nor height nor depth, but on guardless flotation
That it is drifting toward death precisely
Enroute a devious course of fluctuation.
Life for each one is what to you is visible --
Beyond the difference of a king or pauper --
That, within, it is purely frail and breakable
To plagues, pile-ups, or sword of misadventure...
We see each other with whatever view,
But none is vital -- neither I nor you.
-- N. P. SAMAL
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