Cailin a' sgiathe
Sometimes when the sense of desire
Rises like a mighty pyre
Burning golden in the night;
Pushing out all that is real,
Making off as if to steal
That which has been given freely;
Caught between two circumstances,
Engaging in two different dances:
One made of stone and one of ash;
Help me, O Lord to see beyond,
this present as a smallish pond,
and see eternity's might sea;
And bring to rest my wandering soul,
Make me one more time quite whole,
Turn ash to dust, and stone to earth.
"Non vereor ne illam me amare hic potuerit resciscere;
quippe haud etiam quicquam inepte feci"
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