1. A captive beyond hope in their dwellings,
Seeking mercy from me, O tribes of darkness!

2. Never shall I make peace with them while I have a horse,
And a firm grip clasps the hilt of my blade.

3. People are but flocks, O Lord, led to slaughter,
Carrion for wild beasts or stuffing for arrows.

4. They perish while their deeds remain
As though traced by pens on parchment.

5. Wolves prey on him who is without dogs,
And shun the lair of the watchful protector.