Classic Poem

I garland thee with holy flowers and bow at thy feet and worship and praise thee thrice a day.
If thou wilt not see that I live with and serve without blemish the god who slept on the sea of milk,
I shall weep and mourn and thou wilt find it hard to comfort me.
My suffering will be like that of the ox that is unyoked from its team and refuses to eat anything and pines away because of the separation.