1 You have made me immortal, and it was your joy to do so.This flimsy cup, you keep emptying it and filling it with new life. This little flute of a reed, which you carry over hills and valleys, blows from its pipe a music everlasting. At the immortal touch of your hands my little heart, lost in bliss, utters inexpressible tones. Thy infinite gifts are poured into my small hands only.Times have passed, and you are still pouring out, and yet there is room in my hands to be filled. 2 My heart seems to burst with pride when you command me to sing, and I look up at your face with tears welling up in my eyes.

All the astringency and contradictions in my life melt into a sweet harmony—— My praise is like a bird of joy, which spreads its wings across the sea. I know you rejoice in my singing.I know that only because I am a singer can I come before you. With the far-reaching wing-tips of my song I have touched your feet which I never dared to aspire to. Drunken in song, I forget myself, and I call you my friend, who are my master. 3 I do not know how you sing, my lord!I am always listening in amazement. The radiance of your music lights up the world.The breath of your music penetrates the heavens.

The holy fountain of your music rushes forward through every rock that stands in its way. My heart longs to sing with you, but struggles to make a sound.I want to speak, but words don't make songs, I can't cry out.Oh, you have made my heart a captive in the net of your music, my lord! 4 Life of my life, I will keep my body pure forever, knowing that the touch of your life touches my limbs. I will forever banish hypocrisy from my thoughts, for I know that you are the truth that kindles the fire of reason within me. I will drive all the ugliness out of my heart and make my love blossom, for I know you have set a seat deep in the palace of my heart.

I will try to reflect you in my actions, because I know it is your power that gives me strength to act. 5 Please allow me to relax for a while and come sit by your side.I'm going to wait a while to finish the work at hand. Without your presence my heart would know no rest nor rest, and my work became an endless toil in a boundless sea of ​​toil. Today, the heat comes to my window, whispering: the bees are playing and singing in the court of flowers and trees. This is the time to sit still, facing you, and sing the song of life in the silence and the boundless leisure. 6 Pick this flower, take it, don't delay!I'm afraid it will wither and fall into the dust.

It may not be worthy of your corolla, but please pluck it, and honor it with the pain of plucking it.I am afraid that before I am alert, the daylight will be gone, and the time for offerings will be over. Although its color is not deep and its fragrance is very weak, please still use this flower for worship, and pick it while you still have time. 7 My song undresses her.She no longer has the luxury of clothing.Ornaments will be the blemish of our unity: they will come between us, their tinkle will drown your whispers. My poet's vanity dies of shame in your radiance.Oh, saint of poetry, I have bowed down at your feet.Just let my life be simple and straight like a flute of reed, let you play the music.

8 The child in prince's robes and jeweled necklaces has lost all joy in play; his raiment stumbles his steps. For fear of being torn and stained, he dared not go into the world, or even move. Mother, it is of no use, as your splendid restraints separate man from the healthy dust of the earth, and deprive him of the right to enter into the grand assembly of daily life. 9 Oh, fool, want to carry yourself on your shoulders!O beggar, come to thy own door and beg! Cast your burden into hands that can bear it all, and never look back with regret. The breath of your desire will instantly blow out any lamp it touches.It is unholy - accept no gifts from its unclean hands.Receive only what divine love gives.

10 This is your footstool, where you rest among the poorest, the cheapest, and the most homeless. I want to bow to you, and my salute cannot reach the depths of your resting place—among the poorest, meanest, and homeless. You wear shabby clothes and walk among the poorest, most humble and most homeless people. Pride can never approach this place. My heart will never find that place in your company with the poorest, meanest, most homeless, friendless. 11 Put aside the praise and counting beads!To whom do you worship in the dark and lonely corner of the house where the doors and windows are closed?Open your eyes and see, God is not in front of you!

He is with the farmer who hoes the dry ground, and the road-maker who hammers the stone.He was with them in the sun and in the rain, and his robe was covered with dust.Take off your holy robe, and even go down into the earth like him! Detached?Where can one find detachment?Our Lord has joyfully bound up the chains of creation: he and we are all forever bound together. Come out of meditation and throw away the fragrant flowers you offer!So what if your clothes get stained?Go meet him, and stand with him in labor and sweat. 12 I travel a lot and the journey is long. As soon as day broke, I set off in my car, across the vast world, leaving ruts on many planets.

The place closest to you is the farthest away, and the easiest tune requires the hardest practice. Travelers have to knock at the door of every stranger before they can knock on the door of their own, and people have to wander around outside before they can finally reach the deepest inner sanctum. My eyes looked around the empty space, and finally I closed my eyes and said, "So here you are!" This question and call "Oh, where are you?" melted into the fountain of tears, and together with the torrent of your promised answer "I am here!", it flooded the whole world.

13 The song I want to sing has not been sung until today. I always adjust the strings on my instrument every day. The time has not yet come, and the words have not been filled in: only the pain of wishing is in my heart. The pistils are not yet open; only the wind sighs past. I have not seen his face, nor heard his voice: I only heard his soft footsteps, passing by the road in front of my house. A long day is spent laying out a seat for him on the ground; but the lamp is not lit, and I cannot invite him in. I live in the hope of meeting him, but the day of that meeting has not yet come.

14 My desires are many, and my crying is also very pitiful, but you always save me with your firm rejection. This strong mercy has been closely intertwined in my life. You make me more worthy every day of your own simple and great gifts—this sky and light, this body and life and mind—and save me from the perils of lust. Sometimes I procrastinate slackly, sometimes I hurriedly and vigilantly seek my way; but you have the heart to hide. Your constant rejection of me rescued me from the danger of weak and wavering desires and made me more and more worthy of your complete acceptance every day. 15 I come to sing for you.In your halls I sit in the corner. In your world I have nothing to do; my useless life is nothing but song without purpose. When the bells of silent prayer strike at midnight in your dark temple, command me, my lord, to stand before you and sing. When the golden harps are tuned in the morning light, favor me and order me to come to you.