When the hope ends and the thought loses the sense of time,
When the existence shrinks to the point of nonexistence,
When the body in sunlight casts formless and infinite shadow,
He needs a change, a rebirth from his destiny.
He calls to the Masters; he kneels down before them,
A proud man once, a Beggar he is now.
Words, take them out from the prison of his mind
And throw them to the garbage,
Useless they are to beg for his own life
To the laughing Masters.

The Beggar and the Masters