Though the lamp burns
all I see is the brightness before me,
yet I never watch the shadows of woe
                               that this light expels.

                            For within illumination  
there is always things that even though
illuminated we shield our eyes from.

For every footstep may be seen,
but still we tread over the footsteps
                     of others shielding eyes.

For we may follow others paths,
     but there are still stones
             that are never read upon.

For every smooth path hides the weeds,
                         to ashamed to walk upon.