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The crowded and garish theatre, the strangled cries

Of flute and trumpet! O mortal body, bearer of our flame

Through the drear lands of death, flower of the eternities!

Revered, reviled, wept and adored, beseeched, cried out upon

By ravening lips of the ages—the sacred source of things,

That glimmered in Thrace, that shone in Rome, that swayed in Babylon,

Here moves to the vile throb of castanets and strings.

O through what generations have you lured, what secret ways,

Man’s fainting heart to be reborn! What splendors move

Deep in his breast when, dolorous, your reluctant beauty sways

In the old weary rhythms of eternal love!

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I lift my gaze beyond the night, and see,

Above the banners of Man’s hate unfurled,

The holy figure that on Calvary

Stretched arms out wide enough for all the world.

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Life, Belovèd, I lay my heart against Your heart,

Long, long I peer into the dark pool of Your eyes;

Never will I forsake You, O adorable One!

I cannot comprehend You, but I love You.