In the past you had faith,
today you have none.
What’s yours is yours alone—
I’ve done nothing wrong.
Faith is impermanent, fickle:
or so I have seen.
Passions wax and wane:
why would a sage waste away on that account?
The meal of a sage is cooked
bit by bit in this family or that.
I’ll walk for alms,
for my legs are strong.