Since the day we were born
We have been paying obeisance to you
O Lord and protector of this world!
Why, then, do barefooted humans,
In their anxiety to appease you
By walking around your temple
In circles with folded hands,
Trample upon us and kill us?
Is our own penance any less
Because we live here all our lives,
Or is their atonement superior
Because they live elsewhere
And come in luxury cars and buses
And bring coconuts and flowers for you?
Or, is it just the way you designed
This great world
For us helpless, tiny, black ants?