My heart bursts its banks, spilling beauty and goodness. I pour it out in a poem to the king, shaping the river into words:
"You're the handsomest of men; every word from your lips is sheer grace, and God has blessed you, blessed you so much.
Strap your sword to your side, warrior! Accept praise! Accept due honor! Ride majestically! Ride triumphantly!
Ride on the side of truth! Ride for the righteous meek! "Your instructions are glow-in-the-dark;
you shoot sharp arrows Into enemy hearts; the king's foes lie down in the dust, beaten.
"Your throne is God's throne, ever and always; The scepter of your royal rule measures right living.
You love the right and hate the wrong. And that is why God, your very own God, poured fragrant oil on your head, Marking you out as king from among your dear companions.
"Your ozone-drenched garments are fragrant with mountain breeze. Chamber music - from the throne room - makes you want to dance.
Kings' daughters are maids in your court, the Bride glittering with golden jewelry.
"Now listen, daughter, don't miss a word: forget your country, put your home behind you.
Be here - the king is wild for you. Since he's your lord, adore him.
Wedding gifts pour in from Tyre; rich guests shower you with presents."
(Her wedding dress is dazzling, lined with gold by the weavers;
All her dresses and robes are woven with gold. She is led to the king, followed by her virgin companions.
A procession of joy and laughter! a grand entrance to the king's palace!)
"Set your mind now on sons - don't dote on father and grandfather. You'll set your sons up as princes all over the earth.
I'll make you famous for generations; you'll be the talk of the town for a long, long time."