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So said the potter: I, God’s servant, have amassed, as is my custom, this damp clay of mire. And made a pretty pot which overnight has passed inside the reddish and the burning fire. In order that it carries oil, the clearest gold, or wine, which all the darkness will enjoy. And decorate these like a city-wall, a stronghold, and create for them a face of joy. It is a pot. And not the main theme but a second to all this action and the theory employed. But being broken and upon the mound abandoned, it is a sign: the kingdom was destroyed.
So said the potter: I, God’s servant, have amassed,
as is my custom, this damp clay of mire.
And made a pretty pot which overnight has passed
inside the reddish and the burning fire.
In order that it carries oil, the clearest gold,
or wine, which all the darkness will enjoy.
And decorate these like a city-wall, a stronghold,
and create for them a face of joy.
It is a pot. And not the main theme but a second
to all this action and the theory employed.
But being broken and upon the mound abandoned,
it is a sign: the kingdom was destroyed.
