Flamma Amoris

Oh, strange languor! Oh, reckless craving!
Descend, my God, into this worthless ash,
Let Thy fire, which seeks no boundaries,
Ignite a thousand conflagrations within me!

My soul is like a lily in a crucible,
Where petals, already powerless from the light,
Become rays, golden and fierce,
And every vein – a greedy touch.

Look, my Beloved: these roses of wounds –
They are not lacerations, they are a living fountain!
They are not rubies of blood – they are lips,
That yearn for Thy white finger.

Oh, sweetness of salt! Oh, honeyed wound!
It is like a chalice, drunk on the heavens,
Where love flows, red and thick,
To wash Thy wounds and Thy cross.

Drink my tears! Let them, like pearls,
Perish in Thy sea of joy.
Grant me Thy kiss-knife,
Dissolve quickly in the captivity of light!

I melt like snow beneath a summer gaze,
Forgetting shame before the eternal choir.
Oh, gentle death! Oh, beautiful murder!
Where the spirit dies – there it shall be resurrected.

Spread in my heart as the purple of wine,
Where every drop is an abyss of mercy!
I am Thy flowerbed, I am Thy burning altar,
Where blood and lilies are Thy highest gift.

Burn within me! Shine! Kiss my dust,
Until the world perishes in Thine eyes!