SEVENTEENTH SONG

The sea of life that billows in vain,” and so forth.


Seeing the sadness of this life,

Seething like the Red Sea[’s strife],

With a whirlwind of sorrows, illness and woes,

I grow weak, terrified, pale [indisposed].

O sadness for those existing in its throes!


I revisited my poor escape quickly,

So as not to bury myself with the Pharoah in the sea.

I run to a quiet harbor [without fail]

And shout out in a lamenting wail,

Lifting my hands high.


O Christ! Do not let me rot in hell!

In your heavenly city let me dwell.

And do not let the world whore, this dark light,

Drag me in its tracks [with all its might]!

O abyss of mercy!


The End.