They tell me that thou forsakest books,
And givest thyself up to pleasure.
Thou goest from street to street;
Every evening the smell of beer,
The smell of beer, frightens people away from thee,
It bringeth thy soul to ruin.
Thou art like a broken helm,
That obeyeth on neither side.
Thou art as a shrine without its god,
As a house without bread.
Thou art met climbing the walls,
And breaking through the paling:
People flee from thee,
Thou strikest them until they are wounded.
Oh that thou didst know that wine is an abomination,
And that thou wouldst forswear the _Shedeh_ drink!
That thou wouldst not put cool drinks within thy heart,
That thou wouldst forget the _Tenreku_.
But now thou art taught to sing to the flute,
To recite [?] to the pipe,
To intone to the lyre,
To sing to the harp,
[and generally to lead a life of dissipation.]
Revised from the German of Adolf Erman.