The master gave to me, yet I boast not of the master —
Admire me, how cool I am.
And what if tomorrow, by the owner’s plan,
He hands it to another, because I am not the one?

I am not the reliable coachman he had hoped —
On the golden carriage, in top hat and tails
I forgot the grandee, was proud of myself,
Imagined myself in glory, a hired hand at work.

That is why I value the post,
The phaeton and the horses,
For they are entrusted by power —
I exalt it and am obedient to it!