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From the fire of this congregation there is naught but smoke
And noone has any hope of my well being
(With) the hand, that from the power of heaven I raise to my head
I seize the robe of everyone—but I get no reward (by it)

 

Nic 74

Du feu de mes crimes je ne vois point surgir de fumée; de personne je ne puis attendre un sort meilleur. Cette main que l'injustice des hommes me fait porter sur ma tête, quand je la porte sur le pan de la robe d'un d'entre eux, je n'en obtiens aucun soulagement.

P 218

Of this folk's fire, except a smoke, to see there 's nought;
Of hope from any wight of weal for me there's nought:
On whoseso skirt a hand I clap that on my head
For Fate's despite I hold, humanity there 's nought.

Th 612

Nothing but smoke by this sect's fire is made,
And hope of weal from any is gainsaid;
Compelled by hand of Fate, I lift my hands
And clutch the skirts of men but find no aid.

Wh 76

'Tis naught but smoke this people's fire doth bear,
For my well-being not a soul doth care;
With hands, fate makes me lift up in despair,
I grasp men's skirts, hut find no succour there.

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