A drunk man had a lute in his embrace

At night, he broke it in the pursuit of virtue

When the righteous man of sound mind arrived in the day

He took a handful of silver to the cold-hearted one

You were excused yesterday, being drunk

You and I broke the lute and the head

The wound caused me great pain, and fear arose

For you, nothing will come but silver

Among these friends of God, they are on top

They often strike above the heads of the people