There is no treasure greater than your
However rich or bountiful your life.
It is the spring that wells up in your garden,
Replenishing the mother and the wife;
The joy that makes a pleasure of your burden,
Yielding happiness that time will prove.
Nor is love proof against travail
Instead, it is but tears with yearning laden,
Nile through the desert, green and brazen,
Edged with life, where all things near might