That is the true Renouncer, firm and fixed, Who--seeking nought, rejecting nought--dwells proof Against the "opposites."[FN#8] O valiant Prince! In doing, such breaks lightly from all deed: 'Tis the new scholar talks as they were two, This Sankhya and this Yoga: wise men know Who husbands one plucks golden fruit of both! The region of high rest which Sankhyans reach Yogins attain. Who sees these twain as one Sees with clear eyes! Yet such abstraction, Chief! Is hard to win without much holiness. Whoso is fixed in holiness, self-ruled, Pure-hearted, lord of senses and of self, Lost in the common life of all which lives-- A "Yogayukt"--he is a Saint who wends Straightway to Brahm. Such an one is not touched By taint of deeds. "Nought of myself I do!" Thus will he think-who holds the truth of truths-- In seeing, hearing, touching, smelling; when He eats, or goes, or breathes; slumbers or talks, Holds fast or loosens, opes his eyes or shuts; Always assured "This is the sense-world plays With senses."He that acts in thought of Brahm, Detaching end from act, with act content, The world of sense can no more stain his soul Than waters mar th' enamelled lotus-leaf. With life, with heart, with mind,-nay, with the help Of all five senses--letting selfhood go-- Yogins toil ever towards their souls' release. Such votaries, renouncing fruit of deeds, Gain endless peace: the unvowed, the passion-bound, Seeking a fruit from works, are fastened down. The embodied sage, withdrawn within his soul, At every act sits godlike in "the town Which hath nine gateways,"[FN#9] neither doing aught Nor causing any deed. This world's Lord makes Neither the work, nor passion for the work, Nor lust for fruit of work; the man's own self Pushes to these! The Master of this World Takes on himself the good or evil deeds Of no man--dwelling beyond! Mankind errs here By folly, darkening knowledge.