1. I said to the blamer as he traced my greying hair each day:
The wicked plants grow more, so the good ones are pruned,

2. But later the good ones too will turn wicked.
Though I pretend I'm not going grey,

3. Pretence will inevitably end in betrayal.
Time toys with my hair,

4. And before the caprices of time I'm helpless.
When I was blamed for greying,

5. I thought: what comes will come more.
Now in life I wander and settle,

6. Thinking I'm in an alien land I plough.
Yet with grey has come a sweet life.

7. After hardship comes ease.