You, who have created me  with two hands and one fork,

With one spoon and one mouth-with a lot of linings,

With two chop sticks and  the colourful weaving of macaroni (spaghetti),

Give me  the ability( talent) to distinguish meat from a bone,

You, who has taught me to become a stoned mortar in woe,

The stomach -to cry only with onion tears,

So that instead of amber (ambergris, perfume) I waft cardamom and dill,

That our daily bread is one morsel,

And that’s why before  water mixes with vinegar,

To pray for those, who are hungry,

It is true,  who are hungry.

I prepare rich dinner:

Chrysalis, termites

Are that morsel, you pass to me or you don’t pass to me,

Sometimes  I do not want it.

I prepare the rich dinner for myself:

Kittens, chicks,

That morsel you pass me,

I don’t want it, I will share it with you.

The milk spilled out in the sky

Like the oil spilled down in the sea.

All the unknown sun and meteors and star( luminary, heavenly body)

The sky and the birds which are in the sky and the sea  in the sea and the fish in the sea

All lumps of salt and piece of sugar.

Your glass and bowl and plate and you table are full.

You,

Who gave me hunger,

You possess me- you have power( you are all mighty) over my hunger.

I stand and stretch out my plate like a handful.

The knife cuts its mouth

I remind you your promise ( nata- play of words: piri-mouth, dana-piri -Promise)

When you  forget me, You said-you will come and rescue me,

I – who you breaded (fed),

And that one , who will bread you(feed you).