1. Those rhymes have come to us, confused,
Crying over captive meanings,

2. No Christians would be pleased with their satire,
Nor would the dogs of the Christians accept the blame,

3. And if the transgression becomes too narrow for them,
You'd be excusing the chaste,

4. It's not my donkey they rode in the valley,
But the donkey of drunkards,

5. What shame in desiring to rise against one,
Whose mouth is for falcons and wrap is for monks.