स्वसत्ता स्फुटतां याति दुःखाय तव चित्तक ।तप्तकाञ्चनरुल्लासो दाहायैव स्वपार्श्वयोः
In plain words
Your own existence, O little citta, grows plain only to bring you sorrow -- like the glow of molten gold, which shines only to scorch what lies at its two sides.