I renounce soft things and bright rings
those many shiny displays
whose ways never led me anywhere,
I say no to all that is not yes,
your yes, that blessed bright glorious
turning, that firm contagious burning,

Your heart opens to me,
and now you begin to see,
that this world is full of so much,
but in many ways so empty,

mourn, mourn your false lovers,
they who held your affections for a season
who held captive your reason,

the science of my beloved ones
is the cultivation of tears,
whereby fears are banished,
the darkness is vanished,

and the fire awakens,

Lord, there is pain in this,
and somehow my heart accuses me,
because your bliss seemed like a promise,

Do you hate the Cross?

My heart speaks before I have the chance
to hide behind the appropriate,
Lord, I do hate the Cross,
I am addicted to softness and pleasant things,
Lord, my body longs to be filled,
with this world and my ears tickled,
with the voices of strangers,

Mourn, mourn your treacherous heart,
mourn how it betrays you
and leads you to pasture
far from my flock
and teaches you to knock,
at the doors of false lovers,

your heart is an enemy,
that you must train and educate,
you must wait, and suffer its disorders,
but you must also love your enemy,
you must bring him to conversion.