Covered with blood,
Studded with wounds,
Filled with pain,
Heaped with scorns,
tied with scoff,
And a crown of thorns.
Once covered with utmost glory,
But now derided impundently.
Usually the world
Trembles with your task.
How are you maltreated?
What you have endured - it’s all my burden,
What you have beared - it’s all my fault,
I am a sinner and anger - yeah it serves me
Right!
Salve Caput Cruentatum!
How have you turned pale!
Who has your glance
Battered so desecrate?
The colour of your cheeks,
The splendour of your lips,
Is gone and passed away!
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