after the nights spent wandering,
with that fierce desire that burned in my heart,
gazing on limbs so adorned as to do me harm,
now may it please you by Your light that I turn
to the greater life and more beautiful work,
so that my harsh adversary having cast
his nets in vain, may be discredited.
Now, my Lord, the eleventh year revolves
since I was bowed under the pitiless yoke,
which to those most subject to it is most fierce.
Have pity on my unworthy suffering:
lead back my wandering thoughts to a better place:
remind them how you hung, today, upon the cross.
Translated by: A. S. Kline