Well, the truth is bitter
I want to spit it out from my mouth;
And if its bile touches the soul
It's stupid to hide it.
Let it be known, because in my laziness
Poverty gave rise to freedom.
Who makes a handsome man out of the one-eyed
And who makes the one without advice careful?
Who serves the greedy old man
Out of the river Jordan?
Who makes bread out of stones,
without being the true God?
Money
Who frightens off the sceptre and the crown from the king with its ferocity?
Who, lacking law,
Deserves the name of a Saint?
Who lifts its head with humility
Towards the heavens?
Poverty.
Who makes humans out of passionate judges
Without being ointment,
For it softens their heart while oiling their hands?
Who pays for it
With gold and not with steel?
Money.
Who tries to make vain glory leave the floor?
Who, being all Christian,
Has the face of a heretic?
Who makes it so that man is afflicted
By contempt and sadness?
Poverty.
Well, the truth is bitter
I want to spit it out from my mouth;
And if its bile touches the soul
It's stupid to hide it.
Let it be known, because in my laziness
Poverty gave rise to freedom.