Oh Christ, I would like from your augustan head
to disengage the thorns; to make sweet your martyrdom;
to give you my youth like delirious incense; and
praising you in psalms, to staunch your sadness.
I would spill you out in my soul with the sweet assurance
Of body pillaged at lily’s bloom.
I would sacrifice myself like a wing on a pascal
candle that, as it burns, with its call kisses you.
The fumes, in holocaust, from my offered body
would soak the bitter sponge in perfume
and, buried in the wound, my life on your side,
–the guilt redeemed and the world without sin–
at the final word of Crucified God,
would anoint with loving rose your human flesh.


Oh Cristo, yo quisiera de tu augusta cabeza
desclavar los espinos; endulzar tu martirio;
darte mi adolescencia como incienso en delirio;
alabándote en salmos, restañar tu tristeza.
Te volcaría en mi alma con la dulce certeza
de corporal expolio a cabezal de lirio.
Me inmolaría entera como ala sobre cirio
votivo que, al quemarse, con su llama te besa.
El humo, en holocausto, de mi cuerpo ofrendado
empapara en perfume la esponja de la hiel
y, hundida entre la llaga, mi vida en tu costado,
–la culpa redimida y el mundo sin pecado–
a la última palabra de Dios crucificado,
ungiría con rosa de amor tu humana piel.