Morning Prayer

Poem by Théodore Agrippa D'Aubigné Period 16th century

The Sun crowned with rays and flames
Gilds our dawn in its turn:
O holy Sun of the Saints, Sun of holy love,
Pierce with golden arrows the darkness of souls
Rekindling there the fair day.

The radiant Sun is never angered,
Sometimes he hides his eyes:
It is when the earth exhales in hateful heaps
A veil of vapors that it drives before it,
Beclouding itself, and not the Heavens.

Jesus is always clear, but then his fair face
Hides from us his rays so gentle,
When our smoking sins between Heaven and us,
With redoubled vices raise a cloud
That blackens Heaven with wrath.

At last this black rampart dissolves and scatters
By the force of the great torch.
Flee, sins, flee: the Sun clear and fair
Your vicious mass both dispels and separates,
To take away our blindfold.

We shall rise again from the funeral tombs,
As the day emerges from the night
If the first death is the port of life,
The fair day is the end of thick darkness,
And life is the end of death.

Théodore Agrippa d’Aubigné

Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.

Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/poem-morning-prayer-theodore-agrippa-d-aubigne/