Passion Week & Good Friday

"Oh week that witnessed holy suffering!
You sound such a serious note in this blissful spring season.
In the rejuvenated rays of the sun,
You spread the shadow of the cross over the bright earth,
And silently lower your mourning crape.
Meanwhile, the spring is allowed to continue germinating.
The violet is fragrant beneath blossoming trees.
And all the birds sing songs of joy.
Oh, be silent, you birds in the green meadows!
All around, hollow-toned bells are resounding.
The angels are softly singing dirges.
Oh, quiet, you birds high up in the blue sky!
You violets, do not crown any maiden’s tresses today!
My pious girl is picking you to make a dark bouquet.
You will accompany her to the Virgin Mary’s house,
And there you will wither on the altar of the Lord.
Ah, there, intoxicated by mournful melodies,
And sweetly dazed by heavy fumes of incense,
She seeks her bridegroom in the vaults of death,
And love and springtime – everything is lost!" JM