“The King of Moab from the eastern mountains
Has brought me from afar his words like kindling:
‘Come, curse this Jacob, make their blood as fountains;
Denounce Israel, make their numbers dwindling!’
His words spat sparks to light my lips perverse
And eagerly I’d on this evil pounce –
But can I curse whom the LORD does not curse?
Can I denounce whom God does not denounce?
For from the top of crags the LORD I see,
And from the hills their God do I behold;
Apart, this people knows prosperity,
The dust of Jacob countless and untold.
Now let me die as those who are God’s friend
And let my death be as their thrice-blest end!”