Sore Vexed

What grieves you O my soul? Why do you lie sore displeased? Away from here, I say, Arise; Go forth into the gates of the palaces and seek the roe of your youth. Into the opening of the streets cry aloud, in the City lift up your voice as of the sound of a great wave and say: O you passersby, you go everyone with his tulip. Behold, I am left without beyond remedy shattered like a potter's vessel.

Cry! O my soul yeild up yourself! Do make your voice known for i am poured out like water, like water i am spat in torrents. My strength is parched like persimmon, and my heart melts in the midst of my belly. Like the dead i lie in the depths of darkness whom you, my love, remember no more. I may tell of my forefathers: they look and stare upon me with contempt.

Come, O my love, and let us run together. Look what I've prepared for us. I've mingled the wine and with a wonderful fragrance it is fulfilled. With myrrh I've spreaded out the veil of the bed like a garment. I've covered the couch in fine linen, yea, and with flax. I've girded myself from the paps down in precious studs of gold and jewels. In scarlet array i have girded myself O love. As the bridegroom out to meet his bride: this my joy thereof is complete.