Κύριε, ἡ ἐν πολλαῖς ἁμαρτίαις περιπεσοῦσα γυνή,
τὴν σὴν αἰσθομένη θεότητα,　
 

Oh Lord, my God,  I fell asleep,

No longer in a state of grace,

No longer a beautiful woman

Beloved by an Emperor.

But I am a harlot, like Mary Magdalene,
A sister of the Christ.

Dazzled by his real presence,
By an acre of sorcery, by a terrible moon,
By the time of the month, I discover

Nothing is too soon

So, give me your tears.

Let me wash your feet,

Wash away your Golgotha fears,

We all die Lord.

The place of the skull lives
Within the waters of the sea 
Tides rise in my heart, my blood seeps 

Listen to the sighing of my heart,
Your bedroom is empty.
Let me so-ravish your thighs,
That sin will arise and forgive me
In the Paradise Of the Twilight,
I cry, I fear, I hide away, I am ashamed.

Now I am one of the crowd,

At the crimson gates of Constantinople,

An abyss opens up before me
How do I make up my mind to live,

To love my sanctified saviour?
For I am not your servant, Sir, 

But I am your graceful, wilful lover.