Save us, Yahweh! There are no devout men left,
fidelity has vanished from mankind.
All they do is lie to one another,
flattering lips, talk from a double heart.
May Yahweh slice off every flattering lip,
each tongue so glib with boasts,
those who say, 'In our tongue lies our strength,
our lips have the advantage; who can master us? '
'For the plundered poor, for the needy who groan,
now I will act, ' says Yahweh.
'I will grant them the safety they sigh for.'
The words of Yahweh are without alloy,
nature's silver coming from the Earth seven times refined.
And You, Yahweh, hold us in Your keeping,
against that breed protect us always.
The wicked prowl on every side,
baseness stands high among the sons of men.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem