A Thelemic Stabat Mater

I’ve tried my hand at a rather free translation of the medieval trochaic Latin poem “Stabat Mater” (See Latin below); I’ve given it a Thelemic twist to differentiate it from the myriad other translations – Enjoy:

A mother was standing by, in agony,
Weeping – next to a cross –
While her Sun was hanging.

A mother whose groaning spirit,
Cast down and dejected,
The iron had also stabbed through.

How worn out and ruined
was that blessed woman,
Mother ov an only child

A dutiful mother, who shrieked
And suffered upon seeing
The torture ov her illustrious Sun.

What kind ov man wouldn’t weep
If he saw the Anointed’s Mother
In this kind ov torment?

Who is not utterly ruined when envisioning
The Mother ov Man’s Sun
Howling below her hanging baby?

For the errors of her race,
She saw the Bridegroom in anguish
All ripped up by the scourge

She saw Her sweet Sun,
Dying there alone,
Until He poured out his Spirit.

Mother! Source of all Love,
Make me feel the brunt of those pains,
That I might weep with you.

Ignite my heart with
Love for the Sun Divine
That I might find Grace in his eyes.

Holy Mother, this I pray,
Drive deep the pains ov crucifixion
Into my heart

Let me share the boils and blisters ov Your Sun,
Which he deigned to suffer for me.
Let me weep with you in all sincerity,
Let me share the pain of the One strewn out,
Until the end ov days.

I want to stand with you next to the cross,
And to join you in misery.

Illustrious maiden of maidens,
Don’t begrudge me.
Let me weep with you.

Let me bear the death ov I AM
Let me be a consort to His passion
And to mull over His sores.

Wound me with his wounds!
Intoxicate me with the Cross
And the blood ov your Sun!

Lest I burn on Judgement Day,
Set alight by the fire,
Defend me, O’ Wisdom.

Anointed one, when time comes to leave this place,
Let me come, on account of your Mother,
To the palm of victory.

And when the body dies,
Grant that unfathomable glory
Be rendered to the soul. Amen.

Stabat mater dolorosa
juxta Crucem lacrimosa,
dum pendebat Filius.

Cuius animam gementem,
contristatam et dolentem
pertransivit gladius.

O quam tristis et afflicta
fuit illa benedicta,
mater Unigeniti!

Quae mœrebat et dolebat,
pia Mater, dum videbat
nati pœnas inclyti.

Quis est homo qui non fleret,
matrem Christi si videret
in tanto supplicio?

Quis non posset contristari
Christi Matrem contemplari
dolentem cum Filio?

Pro peccatis suæ gentis
vidit Iesum in tormentis,
et flagellis subditum.

Vidit suum dulcem Natum
moriendo desolatum,
dum emisit spiritum.

Eia, Mater, fons amoris
me sentire vim doloris
fac, ut tecum lugeam.

Fac, ut ardeat cor meum
in amando Christum Deum
ut sibi complaceam.

Sancta Mater, istud agas,
crucifixi fige plagas
cordi meo valide.

Tui Nati vulnerati,
tam dignati pro me pati,
pœnas mecum divide.

Fac me tecum pie flere,
crucifixo condolere,
donec ego vixero.

Juxta Crucem tecum stare,
et me tibi sociare
in planctu desidero.

Virgo virginum præclara,
mihi iam non sis amara,
fac me tecum plangere.

Fac, ut portem Christi mortem,
passionis fac consortem,
et plagas recolere.

Fac me plagis vulnerari,
fac me Cruce inebriari,
et cruore Filii.

Flammis ne urar succensus,
per te, Virgo, sim defensus
in die iudicii.

Christe, cum sit hinc exire,
da per Matrem me venire
ad palmam victoriæ.

Quando corpus morietur,
fac, ut animæ donetur
paradisi gloria. Amen.

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