Martyrs of great love, pray to God for us.
You who knew a love stronger than death, pray to Love for us.
You who in this life happily slipped free from the net of transient love, which is like a little paint on a rock, that the rain washes away.
You who preached that love is more mysterious than the body, and more eternal than the stars in the heavens.
You who through love understood both tree and stone, and the beasts in the mountain and the fish in the water. For love breaks the seal of all mysteries, and all things show themselves naked to their lover.
You who with love fulfilled all the prophets, satisfied all religions, and covered all laws.
Greatest of conquerors, who is stronger than you?
Greatest of sages, who is wiser than you?
Rarest of jewels, who is fewer in number than you?
Gods, who saw yourselves in God and God in yourselves.
You who have greater honor than the angels, for the angels became angels without torment and martyrdom.
To you we pray and bow down; pray to God for us.
That we too may be cleansed of phantom love, which ends in hatred.
That we too may crown our faith and hope with a crown in which suns are of small worth.
That we too may receive our sight, and know, and rejoice with a joy with which only angels can rejoice.
That our life too may become a three-sunned radiance, like that from which comes all radiance unmixed with darkness.
That we too may behold within ourselves the eternal maiden, and the pre-eternal son of the maiden, and the spirit of the dove.
Martyrs of great love, only your suffering is less than your love. Every earthly love brings a suffering greater than that love. But you fell in love with that which is longer than time and wider than space.
Hearing of your sufferings, your mortal brothers hold them to be unbelievable and unbearable. Only because they can indeed enter into your sufferings, but not into your love, into the meaning of your sufferings. Oh, if only they could enter into your love as well! All your sufferings would be a plaything to them, as they were to you. As the cold rain and the blowing of the wind in the night are a plaything to a mother hastening to her child at home.
To him who has a goal greater than the world, the world can do nothing.
Him who hastens to a home wider than space, space cannot detain.
Him who has a love more precious than the creations of time, time can neither hinder nor overrun.
Through all crags and tempests Love leads her beloved ones and draws them to herself.
Martyrs of great love, pray to God for us.