And now,
It seems to me that my control eludes me,
Where I should faith I have but my fate.
It is now so
That when I pray
And pray only for myself,
My mind reminds me of my folly.
What sort of persecution is this?
A persecution so complex because of my complexion.
I had received no admonition,
And I am filled with despair.
And so, as I behold these troubles,
It seems to me that my control eludes me.