And we’ll become silhouettes when our bodies finally go
Listen, smith of the heavens,
what the poet asks.
May softly come unto me thy mercy.
So I call on thee,for thou hast created me.I am thy slave,
thou art my Lord.
God, I call on thee to heal me.
Remember me, mild one, (or mild king. This is a pun on the word mildingur).
Most we need thee.
Drive out, O king of suns,generous and great,every human sorrow from the city of the heart.
Watch over me, mild one,
Most we need thee,truly every moment in the world of men.
send us, son of the virgin,
all aid is from thee,
in my heart.