My Soul, my Soul, all disturbed by sorrows inconsolable, Bear up, hold out, meet front-on the many foes that rush on you Now from this side and now that, enduring all such strife up close, Never wavering; and should you win, don't openly exult, Nor, defeated, throw yourself lamenting in a heap at home, But delight in things that are delightful and, in hard times, grieve Not too much—appreciate the rhythm that controls men's lives.

My Soul, My Soul, All Disturbed By Sorrows Inconsolable, Bear Up, Hold Out, Meet Front-on The Many Foes That Rush On You Now From This Side And Now That, Enduring All Such Strife Up Close, Never Wavering; And Should You Win, Don't Openly Exult, Nor, Defeated, Throw Yourself Lamenting In A Heap At Home, But Delight In Things That Are Delightful And, In Hard Times, Grieve Not Too Much—appreciate The Rhythm That Controls Men's Lives.