Seven times have I despised my soul:

The first time when I saw her being meek

that she might attain height.

The second time when I saw her limping

before the crippled.

The third time when she was given to

choose between the hard and the easy,

and she chose the easy.

The fourth time when I saw she committed a wrong, and comforted herself that the others also commit wrong.

The fifth time when she forbore for weakness, and attributed her patience to strength.

The sixth time when she despised the ugliness of a face, and knew not that it was one of her own masks.

And the seventh time when she sang a song of praise, and deemed it a virtue.