He blossomed with heavenly fragrance;
Then You decided to wither him.
He radiated with starry illuminence;
Then You decided to tarnish him.
He had a halo around him;
Then You forced him to stumble in pitch darkness.
He had all the faces turned on him;
Then You made him see the turning faces.
He was surrounded all the time by many;
Then You made him grope for a hand, if there was any.

Destiny thou art mischievous, aren’t you?
But I know him more than you.
He may take some time to recover;
But soon he’ll return with his former splendour.
I’m certain then, he’ll not be surrounded by only a few.
But this time surely he’ll not believe anyone;
Who believes in You!