Fearing Lest I Miss Out

I am beset with an empty merit and distance myself from the fair of talent
and behold from afar,
That the fair of grand talent exhibits on crowdy stage regular,
I sit aloof and wreathe with the words,
I fear lest I miss out --
the words that comes in my heart.

When my wreathing will break forth in garland,
I shall garland the rays of the sun with this wakeful flutter,
The lines of border will then no more be a barrier,
The world on being a one will move in the same demeanour.

The wreath of this tune will then play from all around
And the whispering will spread out that
wherefrom this tune does come out,
Even then I shall wreathe with the words sitting aloof------
Fearing the Lest I miss out.