And now I will tell a fable for princes who themselves understand. Thus said the hawk to the nightingale with speckled neck, while he carried her high up among the clouds, gripped fast in his talons, and she, pierced by his crooked talons, cried pitifully.
From my lips in their defilement, From my heart in its beguilement. From my tongue which speaks not fair, From my soul stained everywhere, O my Jesus, take my prayer!