DONJON.[27]
Charles Timothy Brooks translation
DONJON.[27]
[In a niche a devotional image of the Mater Dolorosa, before it pots of flowers.]
MARGERY [puts fresh flowers into the pots]. Ah, hear me, Draw kindly near me, Mother of sorrows, heal my woe!
Sword-pierced, and stricken With pangs that sicken, Thou seest thy son's last life-blood flow!
Thy look—thy sighing—- To God are crying, Charged with a son's and mother's woe!
Sad mother! What other Knows the pangs that eat me to the bone? What within my poor heart burneth, How it trembleth, how it yearneth, Thou canst feel and thou alone!
Go where I will, I never Find peace or hope—forever Woe, woe and misery!
Alone, when all are sleeping, I'm weeping, weeping, weeping, My heart is crushed in me.
The pots before my window, In the early morning-hours, Alas, my tears bedewed them, As I plucked for thee these flowers,
When the bright sun good morrow In at my window said, Already, in my anguish, I sate there in my bed.
From shame and death redeem me, oh! Draw near me, And, pitying, hear me, Mother of sorrows, heal my woe!