Be Watchful
Doesn't a steward wait for his lord like a guard?
Even the darkest night seems to him like a day.
Isn't any thought, except that of his lord, barred?
Doors open, lamps burn. He chases his sleep away.
Do masters tell servants the time of their advent?
Master might come late. The servant still keeps awake.
If in food, drink, and sleep, the steward’s day is spent
Won't his liege end his job with an unending break?
Shouldn't, in each dealing, every servant be wise?
Could he afford to waste his time in useless fights?
Would a sincere steward be deprived of his prize?
His honour here on earth would be raised to the heights.
Master is not mere master, you said. He's your friend.
He is the one who gives you life without an end.
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