[Introduction]: The financial demands of the sacred Treasury and the pressure exerted on families to pay the annual tribute intended for the maintenance of worship. • [Verse 1] The Temple tribute is demanded in clinking coins, Extracting staggering sums from the poor. The guardians of the threshold come knocking at doors, To collect the money that the faithful endure. Each shekel paid is a drop of sweat, Taken from the mouth of a weeping people. • [Chorus] Seizure of the Temple, tax of the faith, Where the soul is measured by the king's weight. Money piles up in the high courtyards, While the people empty their shelter... • [Verse 2] People sell their cattle or their last garment, To pay the tithe to the great command. The sanctuary enriches itself with the gold of the wretched, While misery becomes implacable. The letters bear witness to this heavy seizure, Which stifles hope in the heart of Asia. • [Chorus] Seizure of the Temple, tax of the faith, Where the soul is measured by the king's weight. Money piles up in the high courtyards, While the people empty their shelter... • [Verse 3] But what use is the gold accumulated in the chests, If the spirit of God withdraws and locks itself away? The people murmur against these demands, While awaiting the hour of another mercy. For true faith cannot be bought at a price of gold, It lives in the soul and in effort. • [Outro] The coins clink in the urn... Silence falls again....
