Gold

Why is my beloved so haughty,
and why is he so angry with me?
Before Him why do I shake like a reed?
He's forgotten how long I walked in the wilderness
after Him--and doesn't respond, though I plead.

If He kills me still I'll trust in Him.
If He hides His face, to His goodness I'll turn.
The Lord's favor to his servant will not alter;
for how could the finest gold go dim?

Translation copyright 2004 by Peter Cole. All rights reserved.