1. The finest months are springtide’s,
and Jumada is hated by all;

2. The best of wealth is what you give
in alms when day is done;

3. The best of folk is one whose hand
helps men when griefs dismay.

4. Say not, by God! — Your actions give
the lie unto the things you say.

5. Did Jesus hoard a single dirhem's-worth,
or stuff his purse with gold?

6. Awake! Awake! O shepherd-man! Awake!
For him who doth the world in safety keep

7. Doth also guard his flock.
Your sheep amid the wolves' sharp teeth

8. Are left by you to roam,
As though, forsooth, you deemed yourself

9. The man to guide and guard their steps aright.
Their comfort turned to pain and woe—

10. Such "comfort" as shines forth from glowing ember
When the fierce fire has died away.

11. The locusts have devoured the land
Till men have turned with longing eyes

12. And envied even the locusts' favors.
How comes it, then, O lord of bounty fair!

13. That you refuse to give — refusing e'en
A grain to those who love you and who care?

14. How comes it, then, that when your people call
You hear them not? — As though indeed

15. 'Twere other than yourself who holds control.
Upstanding, sleepless, lone, your nights are spent

16. In drearier Sebastia's stronghold—
While overhead the stars glide smoothly by

17. And somber shadows down the darkness fly.
With breaking hearts your servants kneel to you

18. As midnight weaves her blackness round
The wings of bleak despair.

19. When drowsiness lets fall her curtains dark
Athwart their fading sight,

20. Then waking terrors stalk.
Disease, despair, death, devastation, drought —

21. From all of these they suffer.
Ah! little wonder if they pine for food,

22. Or stretches of cool quietude.
About your victims creep,

23. With fearful whisperings that appall—
(May God protect us!) — Evil phantoms all;

24. The bloodless beings veil their faces
As they glide on with stealthy paces.

25. Whenever these poor starvelings imploring cry,
It seems as though earth's bowels must give reply;

26. With woeful mien they beg your kind intent—
But you! — You let them wail with hearts forspent;

27. And little reck that after their poor dole
They still must hungry pine and pine forlorn,

28. Denied the nourishment to make blood whole.
Ah yes! Denied — and this, although our Lord

29. Has poured His bounty out without reserve,
And said thatconstancy shall win reward.

30. With silken couch at night your limbs you rest,
In richest raiment dressed;

31. While they must shun the tents you scorned to give,
And houseless in the angry storm winds grieve.