ت ُبْغُضُ نَفسِي أوائِلَ شُهُورِكُمْ وَأعيادَكُمْ. وَقَدْ صارَتْ ثَقِيلَةً عَلَيَّ.
Your new moons and your appointed feasts my soul hates: they are a trouble unto me; I am weary to bear them.