My youth was hard to endure.
With so much sorrow to bear.
How can a soul this poor
Be returned to You rich and fair?
A song of praise, long and elegant,
The flattering fate sings fervent.
Lord, Almighty! I’m negligent,
Always Your miserly servant.
Not a rose, not a blade of grass
Will I be Your garden, Father.
I tremble at every speck of dust,
At each word that a fool may utter.