1 Let not the piercers find us, nor let those who wound discover us. O God the Mighty, make the arrows fall, turned far from us, to every side.

2 Turned from us let the arrows fall, those shot and those that will be shot. Shafts unseen and shafts of men, strike and transfix mine enemies!

3 Whoever treateth us as foes, be he our own or strange to us, a kinsman or a foreigner, may God the Avenger with His arrows pierce and slay these enemies of mine.

4 The rival and non-rival, he who in his hatred curses us, may God frustrate him! My nearest, closest mail is prayer.