Resignation / Contrition A
Allow
the angels to take me away
50 afterwards into your presence, Savior
Prince,
Measurer, in your mercy. Even though I committed
many crimes in (my) days, nevertheless
do not ever let the devil
take your right arm (lit., limb; offspring?)
on a hateful journey,
for fear that they may rejoice in
the thought
55 by which they seemed to themselves better
--those over-reaching (lit., proud)
angels--than eternal Christ.
They lied to themselves in this
belief; therefore they long must
suffer torment, those cursed
creatures.
Stand by me and steer my spirit,
when any storm
60 may come against it; help then,
mighty Lord, my soul;
Defend her and keep her, Father of
mankind,
safe--my soul--anxiously determined,
Measurer powerful in might. My heart
is
65 now stained with sins and for my soul
I am sometimes terrified, even
though you have granted me many
favors on this earth. Thanks be to
You for everything,
for the gifts and graces that you have
given me.
Not at all were any merits
70 in (me?)…
Contrition B?
…nevertheless I want to have courage
in myself for everything
and to laugh and to trust in myself,
to decorate/equip myself for (my)
departure and
to test myself on that journey which
I must undertake,
75 to prepare my spirit, and to suffer
everything for God,
happy in heart, now (that) I am fettered
fast in my spirit. Indeed, Lord, guard me
from certain sins which I myself cannot
remember (lit., perceive) clearly. I
have enraged
80 God, Prince of mankind; therefore, I was
so bitterly
blamed for this world, since my faults
were
great before men, so that I suffered
a profound martyrdom. I am not a
just judge,
wise before the throng; therefore I
speak these words
85 eager in spirit, because in the beginning
troubles
came to me over the earth, so that I
was always experiencing,
every year—thanks God for
everything!—
more than others (did), mind-sufferings,
frights among the folk. Therefore I,
miserable,
90 am ready (to go) from my homeland. Thus
the alone-thinker/recluse cannot,
deprived of folk-joys live for long.
The friendless outcast—the Measurer
is angry with him—
mourns among the young warriors,
and each time men help him,
95 they increase his miseries. And all that
he puts up with,
the sorrow-talk of men, and in his
heart is always sad,
the mind morning-sick. I tell this sorrow-tale
about myself most intensely/for my
own sake entirely and speak about my departure,
eager with longing, and think about
the ocean,
100 my *****/mind?? does not *****/know??
how I could buy a boat on the sea,
ship on the shore; I don’t have much
gold (myself),
nor indeed any friend’s (riches)
which might assist me
on that journey, now that I my self
cannot
105 accomplish my desires because of my
poverty.
Forests can grow to themselves,
await their fate,
sprout with sprigs—I, for shame, cannot
love any of mankind in (my) heart/mind,
any nobleman in his homeland. Oh, my Lord,
110 mighty Protector, how sick I am at heart,
bitterly burning in anger. After
life, any atonement/remedy
depends (solely) on you. I cannot
live in the light
in any way, without sufferings
on the earth, a destitute man;
115 If I had friendship from strangers,
comforting kinship, I would always
have fear
for my loves as a reward/in return, just
as I have now admitted.
It is still best, when a man cannot
turn away
from his fate, that he then/at least
suffer it well.
No comments:
Post a Comment