And know this, my Judean lord
‘Tis I that wash the guilted pure
Thy water and thy brazen bowl
They lack the potency to cure
Though earthen silt be washed away
Despite the warning of thy wife
The guilt that stains thy blooded hands
Will 'til Vienne stain all thy life
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem