136 Poems on the Fourteen Stations of Crucifixion
Chinese original, its translation and
On the Cross there's all mankind's heavy sin.
Who could bear, except you, the great compassion?
We should have thanked you not only with tears.
We must be pure without sin and delusion.
Blood and flesh were served the supper last night.
Your prayer moved not the cup even so right.
The attainment of your mercy was so deep,
Made you fall down even you're almighty.
When you rose up from the dusty ground,
Just then was your mother to be found.
Taught us to confess our sins early,
To be loved and free from burdens wrung.
It was the good Simon who shared your load.
I am sad then I was not with Lord!
Now the great event falls on my shoulders,
I wish I may get your help a lot.
Tears of pity were shed when you bore the Cross.
Lament still remains though thousand years have passed.
I envy that Veronica had wiped it,
Though, like blood, my red candles on Homa across.
Sins full of the sky you had born all.
So far away you went in the cool.
For others' sake you staggered and fell.
Taught us to rise even after fall.
The image makes us sad even now.
The women who met you, how could they bear?
One who has sin could not console you.
Should we never sin again we must know.
Your great power could raise the dead!
You might bear the heavy load you had!
Still you fell and rose up three times!
Taught us to confess even so bad!
Neither had you church nor food.
But gave teachings in deep mood!
What a cruelty it was!
Keep no garment you could!
Who was so cruel you to nail?
"Lord of the World" all did hail!
Who could nail all sages of five signs?
Each age has one following so well!
(St. Francis had neither church nor disciples. He followed Jesus' example in every way. Once he fasted for forty-nine days on an island and obtained the five signs of crucifixion through God's blessing.)
You loved all and was victim for all!
Our merciful God to you so cool!
To redeem our sins was so difficult
That God put you to death to save us whole!
13.1 It was given back to her
Who was chos'n to give him life.
To whom it was still as dear
As though he were still alive.
13.2 Under the Cross Mother met your death.
How could she bear to think of your holy birth?
From her deepest lament tears were falling down.
Drop by drop till it mingles with ours.
Where on the Earth could be the holy mountain,
Which could bury you forever to maintain?
Even the stone gate could not keep you at all.
Flown to the holy Heaven you did attain.