Woman, pure, of ivory and light,
Bright sister at my miserable bed,
You, the last refuge of my blood,
Sanctuary for my soul, deep, cool and pure;
As if you were the one to give me birth,
My heart returns in love to you.

Sweet saint, whom no desire can sully,
Save me, your child, from woeful fire!
I hear the horsemen wildly in the night,
Their hot breath panting in my face.
No, do not help, let me now bear this
For you, who exalts me even as I am crushed.