The little letters will smolder away, the sound will scatter,
And memory, like a little cloud, will vanish,
The work of hands will rot in time,
But the ego just won’t get used to change.

It clings to eternity, weaves a web,
Tries this way and tries that:
What if it stumbles on the first cause
And squeezes the Universe in a fist.

Property is jealous of the owner,
A person strives to surpass God.
Such is the classic from time immemorial —
The opposition of the heavenly and the earthly.