With the pincers of truth I have plucked From the dark corners of my heart The thorn of many judgments. I sit in my own splendor. Wealth or pleasure, Duty or discrimination, Duality or nonduality, What are they to me? What is yesterday, Tomorrow, Or today? What is space, Oe eternity? I sit in my own radiance. What is the Self, Or the not-Self? What is thinking, Or not thinking? What is good or evil? I sit in my own splendor. I sit in my own radiance, And I have no fear. Waking, Dreaming, Sleeping, What are they to me? Or even ecstasy? What is far or near, Outside or inside, Gross or subtle? I sit in my own splendor. Dissolving the mind, Or the highest meditation, The world and all its works, Life or death, What are they to me? I sit in my own radiance. Why talk of wisdom, The three ends of life, Or oneness? Why talk of these! Now I live in my heart.