Save me, HASHEM,
The insipid seek to steal my sense of worth!
I design full scripts of favor, yet the arrogant hides his senses!
What does the wicked need when the troubled seek to gain promise?
Be that there are figs yet on the tree of the righteous,
What does the indigent seek to gain by stealing the plums from the trees of the successful?
What is the mode of the busy that they must avail themselves not with the musings of the totter ridden soul?
What is the conscript of the wealthy that they wish to avoid those who have less stone in their walls?
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