We live in a fruitless world,
Where the trees refuse to grow.
Dry fields you cannot see,
Where seeds in vain are thrown.
Blood flows deep into the ground,
Leaving stains no one can clean.
Words come from our mouths like stones,
But they’re tossed back to the sea.
Broken bodies must stand alone,
Hands pushed back when out to reach.
My poor voice is lost around the world,
There is no one left to teach.
I try to find myself
but I lose
I try to hide myself
but I bruise
So easily, so easily
Romance is dead
but I’m alive
I look around
without a glance
Oh yes, I try to go through
But I lose
and I bruise
so easily after you
I read the pages of yesterday
and long to relive my memories
What should I do?
I’m still not free of you.
O tongue of the ancients’ fire,
You live in God’s Church alone.
Romance languages you have sired,
But you are buried under stone!
In my heart you will live forever on,
But what about my fellow brothers?
In mine you’re praised and growing strong,
But how is it in others?
Christ will give you back your strength,
So you may open the locked door.
For to God this glory will have no length,
Though many say Latin’s future is no more.
I pray that you shall live through me,
So you may flourish like a tree!