Let me sing, I pray you, for a well-beloved of mine, The song of my beloved concerning his vineyard: - A vineyard, had my well-beloved on a very fruitful hill;

the way of well-being, have they not known, And there is no justice in their tracks, - Their paths, have they made crooked for themselves, None who treadeth therein knoweth well - being.

Of the travail of his soul, shall he see He shall be satisfied with his knowledge, A setting right when set right himself, shall my Servant win for the Many, Since of their iniquities, he, taketh the burden.