Men tear, from the breast, the fatherless, and, over the poor, they take a pledge;

The topaz of Ethiopia cannot compare with it, Against purest gold, can it not be weighed.

Lo! my bosom, is like wine not opened, Like new wine-skins, it will burst.

Once, have I spoken, but I will not proceed, yea twice, but I will not add.

Lo! the river becometh insolent - he is not alarmed! He is confident, though a Jordan burst forth to his mouth: