In surprise I viewed the toil that bore down
Upon your youthful shoulders in one time.
Your weary melancholy came forth out,
And blossomed in a tender love sublime.
I try not to fear encompassing pain,
When my own spirit fights my own short breath.
Can you help me when I am nearly slain?
Will you rise forth from this o’erburdened chest?
I rest in the fallen labrynth of man
And call for aid from all who have survived,
Will you bring me all of heaven’s own clan
That I may live the vehemence of life?
I implore you, Zelie, Mother of Rose,
Come to me in this my hour of need,
And beckon me close to His own pure Rose
That I may spread my own Him-giv’n harmony.