The passion of heaven…
Behold the passion of heaven, the agonizing labor
That blackens the mouth and draws blood from its eyes.
The firmament groans, its force withdraws,
Its lungs breathe faster and faster non-stop.
The sun covers its golden radiance in black
And closes its eye to the misery of the world;
The soul of the martyrs blossoms no more,
The promise of life is cut from its source:
And, just as man’s body dies on the ground
Once the smallest wound touches his heart,
It follows as well that the world dies and is lost
From the slightest wound to its own heart, the sun.
The moon loses its luster of silver and white,
Revealing as it turns a blood-red face;
Faithful prophets to the destiny of man,
The stars suffer and die an eternal eclipse.
Everything scurries in fear: fire escapes in the air,
The air into water, the water to the ground;
Beauty’s radiance lost to mournful chaos.
By Agrippa d’Aubigné (1551-1630), from les Tragiques, book VII, Jugement ln. 913-931 and courteously translated by Paul Linden.