Classic Poem

Perplexed am I, no knowledge mine, of what I am, or what shall be,
From whence I came, and to what quarter I go.
No news has any one brought back of those departed,
However much I inquire of what their state may be.
To-day I see them stay the night in this Hamlet;
But ever, each in his turn, I count them as they quit it,
The world is like a bowl, I, like an Ant inside it:
Distraught I turn within it, and struggle with all my power.
When I consider this world, and the circumstances of mankind,
It is all the play of children, yet I too join in it.
Art thou wrapt up in it? Hast thou wealth and lands?
All these I look upon but as sleeping fancies,
White has turned from black thy hair, yet change not thou thy nature;
Think not, Khush-hal, that without reason still I style thee a man.