This harp was once plucked by the hand 
Of one whom God loves, the royal singer!
Music sanctified it and at its sounding
Felt a soulful lamenting;
It shall now bear its silence with double difficulty!
suffer its silence with double difficulty...
Even in the hard-hearted man it wakened feeling;
Lent him many a virtue that he did not know;
No ear was so dulled, no heart so cold
That it did not come aglow at the sound of its tones,
Until the harp was deemed mightier than the throne.

It once sang of the victories and splendour of our king,
It praised the Eternal One with a thousand hails,
The colourful wreath of hills twirled at its command,
The cedars tottered and the valleys hastened,
Its sound wafted to Heaven in order to dwell there.
To be sure, upon earth it faded away for every ear;
Along with its daughter, Love, reverence is 
Now stirred in hearts only by a choir
Of sounds and dreams that come from Heaven
And that no light of day may carry off.
that no light of day carries off!