To My Soul Poem by Shlomo ibn Gabirol

Be wise, my precious soul, and haste
To bow to God in reverence.
Let vanities no more be chased,
Bethink thee ere this world lies waste,
The world that waits thee going hence.

Thy life to God's life is akin,
Concealed like His beneath a veil,
Since He is free of flaw or sin,
Like purity thou too canst win,
To reach perfection wherefore fail?

And as His arm upholds the sky,
Do thou thy dumb brute body lift,
Thou, soul, to which we can descry
No like on earth--O magnify
The God of whom thou art the gift.

Greet then, my soul, thy Rock with praise,
Hail him, my inmost heart, with song
Unceasingly throughout my days,
And let all souls their voices raise
My benediction to prolong.


Translated by Israel Zangwill