A sullied moon, oh You are the moon stained.
In my mind, in everybody's psyche,
A wondrous snare, strewn You've retained.
In a bloom's vicinity, on the trail of honey,
The bumblebee comes and sits for its own need.
You permit it to come, You permit it to sit;
Having pulled it near, You bear the blame.
Whatever sinful sufferer, mind thoroughly vile,
You accept every blemish, hey the King Who self-denies.
Yours is no container, You are everybody's shelter;
You are peace for everyone, sorrow You eliminate.
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You absorb all our pollution.
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