On The Feast Day,
Babylon has been carried away
beyond what is due it wastes away
to the emergence of a queen,
whom nations looked fairly upon,
She wasn’t an eye to the roof
Unlike the ladies under our roof.
She is lettered with favour
Eats not without the rest
Had in possession enough milk in her breast,
The king changed the law of destruction
to hold her hand in the law of kindness
A sack-clothed uncle now the next to the throne,
All rivers runs into her sea
to be a rescuer among nations,
a banquet is set before the king
when the Jews had cried bitterly,
love and humility she had for the king
He beats his chest in appraisal of her,
on the feast day
when a banquet is set before the king,
so that she could make a request.
On The Feast Day
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.