The weak man is alone with his weakness,
That old man is alone with his old age,
Unnoticed are all the painful teardrops,
Of the unlucky and lonely bird in the cage.
At the outset they were hoping for a change,
And with every failure they used to cry,
But now that they know that they are alone,
Their wet eyes have forever become dry.
Then who am I to watch them so closely?
I am neither a great man nor a kind sage.
Maybe I am that old man or that weak man,
Or maybe I am that captive bird in that cage.