Mother, what anguish has befallen thee
What burning sighs, what sorrows manifold
Engulf your spirit, Oh what pain untold
Gnaws at your very marrow, misery!
Seeing your son tormented on a tree
At Death’s command, a horror to behold
King brought to shame, upon the Cross installed
Weary and wounded, laid to mockery…
O Mother, I will raise the elegy
For him who died to save His faithful fold,
The loving Shepherd, who for us was palled
Within the darkness of the cemetery
Ay! Mother, come, we’ll mourn in harmony:
“I am the grieving mother, unconsoled.”
Adelaide
March 29th 1991
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem