The fire in my heart is turned to ashes.
I feel like a monk;
Only my head is still unshaven. O poor heart!
How wind and rain have worn you out!
How the partings from friends, dead and alive,
Have torn you to pieces! This orphan-like candlestick
Appears like an old friend to me. There remains one thing alone
That keeps me from a complete Awakening:—
Love still smoulders in the ashes of my heart!
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