[Truly, that man is worthy of envy]1,
Whose God has given him a wife,
Beautiful and clever and full of virtue,
Without guile, like the little doves!

The measure of his bliss is great!
His peace is unchanging!
For no sorrow gnaws the man
Who can be comforted by such a little wife!

Like the silvery gaze of the moon
She smiles grief away;
She kisses away the man's tears,
Bestrews his pathway with flowers.

When abrupt audacity incenses him,
[When] he no longer listens to his friend,
When his bosom burns with rage,
And his eyes spark forth fire;

Oh! then, weeping, she creeps after him,
Softens him with a single Ah!
Thus the evening dew cools
The scorched flower-meadow!

He finds no labour difficult!
No hour is joyless!
For after the burden of every task,
Sweet rest awaits him,

Angels further their rest,
Press the eyes of both of them shut!
Their chaste marriage bond
Was tied by the fatherly hand of God!

God gives their sons courage,
[Gives them] an active will for virtue!
Strengthens their young arms,
Makes their hearts beat warmly for freedom!

With bashful charms the daughters
Of their bed bloom! they glow
With their mother's innocence, as pure
As a water-spring in the sunshine!

Their father delights in that,
Their mother fervently as well;
Their united prayer of thanksgiving
Praises the Giver early and late!

Gold has never made anyone happy;
The laurels of false honour press heavily [upon one];
He who snatches at grandeur is left grasping sand;
Scholarship is often a valueless trinket:

But wives are gifts of God!
Without them life is death!
Wives lighten every burden,
Love us even in Heaven yet!