Deborah Schamoni

He holds his treasured people in a golden crown of hair
We a royal turban a sign of his desire
A garden of justice is his greatest need it rises above his greatest joy
Singing through the gate of the field of holy apples
A new table we prepare for her sheds light upon us
Between the right and the left she approaches in jewels and festive garments
Embracing in her foundation giving pleasure squeezing out his strength
Torment and trouble are ended
Now there are joyful faces spirits and souls
He gives her great joy twofold in measure
Light shines upon her streams of blessing
Go forth and prepare the adornments
Foods and all manner of fish
Beget souls and new lives on the thirty-two paths and three branches
She has seventy crowns with all may be beaten
All the words are engraved and concealed within her
From these days all shine forthMay his will dwell among the people who take joy with sweets and honey
In the south set a hidden candelabrum to make room in the north for a table of bread
Let her be adorned with six loaves connected on each side with shelter
Weakened cast out the menacing in fetters
His garment bright and red