Six years were decreed for a slave to wait
When his freedom he sought at his master's hand,
But the years of my bondage lack term or date,
It is hard, O my Master, to understand.

Why, Sire, should a hand-maid's son bear sway,
And me with affliction and anguish task?
There cometh no answer, howe'er I pray,
In despite that each day for reply I ask.

What word at the last wilt Thou say, my King?
An Thou findest no ransom, O Lord, take me!
Take me for Thy people as offering,
I will serve Thee for ever and ne'er go free.
Translated by Israel Zangwill