What hast Thou done O Sire, casting into this cradle
Of body one high soul and alongside so many gods,
What purpose is Thine issuing from their tongues
Of strange speech with cadences unutterable!
To what need of absent ears hast Thou made body
Into a reed hollowed, for what music is Thy breath
Blown into these paltry limbs that make all of me,
Oh why must Thou always with beauty tease my depth!
O poignant savour, O these thousand wares I forego
For a single sup by eyes of Thy vision divine,
O immortal fervour, a thousand throbs I shall let go
For a single drop of Thy passion’s wine.
Find me O Beloved, upon the crowded shores of time,
It’s I who stands bannered by Thy ardour’s rhythm.