But to what shall I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the market places and calling to their playmates,
‘We piped to you, and you did not dance;
we wailed, and you did not mourn.’
…Yet wisdom is justified by her deeds.
I stretch my skin across the rocks,
lay out my hair in waves,
torn and tangled by the wind;
I prepare my sweetest siren song,
cast its melody toward you,
yet all unmoved, you sail on.
I fall into your nets, break through
and sink, turning in the waters
churning beneath the dark earth,
but you do not seek me, diving down,
but turn again to the shore,
the safety of solid ground.
You who sang creation into being,
why will you not dance to my tune?