The shroud that covers me

Obstinate are the trammels,
But my heart aches when I try to break them.

Freedom is all I want,
But to hope for it I feel ashamed.

I am certain that priceless wealth is in thee.
And that thou art my best friend,
But I have not the heart to sweep away
The tinsel that that fills my room.

The shroud that covers me
Is the shroud of dust and death;
I hate it, yet hug it in love.

My debts are large,
My failures great,
My shame, secret and heavy;
Yet when I come to ask for my good,
I quake in fear lest my prayer be granted.

-Verse 28, Gitanjali
Rabindranath Tagore