My lady of sorrows
The pain that you felt for me
Is pain that lingers still
In each of your favours
Your lips weave praises
Praises that I little merit
And it is evil that I offer you
Offenses and troubles
My Lady, changed loves
Through my drab existence
Are but thorns and thistles
That I exchange for your flowers
In a procession of a thousand colours
It is the sky that comes from you
O my lady mother
My lady of sorrows