From the high firmament, yea, out of heaven a water-drop with dew on me has fallen. O God the Radiant, I share the merit of the pious, with vigour, milk, and hymns and offerings.

2 It is a fruit if any tree has taken it, a breath, if from the sky it has descended. Where it has touched my body or my garment, thence may the waters drive destruction backward.

3 It is a fragrant ointment, happy fortune, sheen all of gold, yea, purified from blemish. Spread over us are all purifications. Death and malignity shall not subdue us before our time.