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The Passing of the Lord, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel's La Mort Du Seigneur By T Wignesan
The Passing of the Lord, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel's La Mort Du Seigneur By T Wignesan
The Passing of the Lord, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s La Mort du Seigneur by T. Wignesan
Lord ! I’m unable to think of your passing without crying
I count the flogging blows I rain upon you
And despair at being exhausted trying
I re-open and again open the mortal wound
In order that I become the wound inflicted upon you
Here’s the opening where all mankind is bound
On their God who died to be reborn
Lord ! I’m unable to think of your passing without crying
I do repent me who in a while am going
To nail my brother on the same gallows
I’m going to let spill his blood right up to his heart
At the point where his suffering stifles my cruelty
Both of us slaking our thirst from the source of pains
Your saintly face and our identity
Lord ! I’m unable to think of your passing without crying
Yet I speak not the truth like water seeping through sand
I am nothing I have neither features nor substance
All the mud in me mounts up to my face
My blurred eyes bog down your pardon
Thus every man when he fathoms your grace
Avoids it to return to his silt
Lord ! I’m unable to think of your passing without crying
At such a moment when every man all of Man
Falls into mud you alone are reborn
At such a moment when God ceases to be man
Which leaves you bloodless and the Verb hollow
At such a moment the void overcomes you
And both man and God having abandoned you
Lord ! I’m unable to think of your passing without crying
You are my thirst me the mud which sucks
The bitter universe pressing upon your lips
Your cross in vain elevates my nature
It’s on my mud your lever finds a fulcrum
And when your body falls like a ripe fruit
My mud doesn’t change when everything’s accomplished
Lord ! I’m unable to think of your passing without crying
Your perfect affirmation underwrites all of history
Suffering to death without in any way being bothered
Yes, to the mud which mocks your victory
Where Man’s reborn though not having been changed
Yes, to this God who extends not his hands to receive
His only Son and total stranger
(from Les Jours de la Passion, pub. July 2011)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2014
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