In honey is woven the power of cure,

But not so much that it can overpower death's allure.

Honey sweetens the temperament of the living,

But the pain of dying, it cannot be forgiving.

For the one whose soul has left the body,

What is the benefit of honey in his mouth, a final oddity?

If a steel mace strikes the head with force,

Someone may say, ‘Apply sandalwood to ease the source.'

Flee from danger as much as you can,

But do not challenge fate with an eager hand.

As long as the inside can drink and eat,

The body remains fresh and clean in its seat.

The house of this body becomes ruined in time,

When temperament and food do not align in rhyme.

The natures are moist, dry, hot, and cold,

Mankind is made from these fourfold.

When one of these natures lays hold of another,

The balance of nature's justice is broken, like no other.

If the cold wind obstructs the breath from the chest,

The stomach's fire will cause the soul unrest.

If the pot of the stomach doesn't boil the food,

The delicate body will end up in a crude mood.

In such matters, the wise will not close their heart,

For they will never harmonize from the start.

Do not think of the body's strength from food alone,

For it is by God's grace that the body is grown.

By His right, if you place your eyes upon sword or knife,

You will not thank Him, even for saving your life.

When you place your face in obedience to the ground,

Praise God, but see yourself not to be crowned.

Begging is the prayer, the remembrance, the presence,

The beggar must not have pride, for that's a grave offense.

I took it that you’ve served in your way,

But have you not consumed His gifts every day?