Flee from the mountains of sadness, flee from what bleeds with tears, the sea of tears, of which the precious earth frequently raises her skirt to pour out the fire from her heart.
O, when the winds set the sea upon fire and rips apart the garments of the sun, when fearful tides mingle into froth and face the dead corpses of the sea, when the hands of night rend the stars O, then shall I pity men!
Behold, man! Here God shall hearken, and when he hears our prayer, he shall restore both our health and our strength.
Should God restore our health, we shall cast aside the blame of the night’s tears, and the blame of the sea’s lamentations, and weep no more, for we shall be restored to our beloved.
Should he restore our strength, then will our sorrow properly vanish I will not languish in the ocean of tears, nor the barren rocks in the seas of sorrow, for we shall now be given back our health, and our strength, and our health, and love.
Let him restore us now, if he can, to the old climate of joy and the old climate of sorrow, and then I will weep no more, and shall not make this complaint:
that He, that is God, has forgotten us.
:: 07.07.2022 ::