Oh, let me begin to chant the dirge,
My Son has been taken from me.
O Son, my fair Son,
Who was it that killed You?
Oh, that they had ripped out my heart,
That I might not see Your torn flesh
Hanging from the cross!
Mother, why have you come?
Your agony and tears crush Me;
To see you suffer so will be My death.
My anguish is not without cause;
O my Son, Father and Spouse,
Who was it wounded and stripped You?
Mother, weep no more; stay and help
Those dear to Me, the friends I leave behind.
Son, do not ask this of me; let me die with You.
Let me breathe my last here at Your side.
A common grave for son and mother,
Since ours is a common agony.
Mother, My heart in tears, I commend you into the hands
Of John, My chosen one; call him your son.
John, here is My Mother, take her with love;
Have pity on her, they have pierced her heart.
My Son, You have breathed Your last;
Son of a mother frightened and dazed,
Son of a mother destroyed by grief,
Tortured, tormented Son!
Son without peer, fair and rosy-cheeked,
To whom shall I turn now that You have left me?
Why did the world so despise You?
Gentle and sweet Son, Son of a sorrowful Mother,
How cruelly You have been treated!
John, my new son, your brother is dead;
The sword they prophesied has pierced my heart.
They have killed both Mother and Son,
One cruel death for both,
Embracing each other and their common cross!
–Brother Jacopone da Todi, O.F.M.