I quarreled with kings till the Sabbath,
I fought with the six kings
of the six days of the week.

Sunday they took away my sleep.  
Monday they scattered my salt.  
And on the third day, my God,  
they threw out my bread: whips flashed across my face.  
The fourth day they caught my dove, my flying dove, and
slaughtered it.
It was like that till Friday morning

This is my whole week,
the dove's flight dying.

At nightfall Friday
I lit four candles, and the queen of the Sabbath came to me.
Her face lit up the whole world,
and made it all a Sabbath.  
My scattered salt shone in its little bowl,
and my dove, my flying dove,  
clapped its wings together,  
and licked its throat.  
The Sabbath queen blessed my candles,  
and they burned with a pure, clean flame.  
The light put out the days of the week
and my quarreling with the six kings.

The greenness of the mountains
is the greenness of the Sabbath.
The silver of the lake
is the silver of the Sabbath.  
The singing of the wind  
is the singing of the Sabbath.

And my heart's song is an eternal Sabbath.