If I offer to thee, my God, my cry of love,
is not the sky that you have promised;
and not even hell, with its territories,
makes me away by the trade.
But I love you, my God, seeing you like this,
nailed to this cross on your purple blood.
your wounds that I love you, and your death,
what I love is your love.
Beyond your gifts and your hopes,
even though there was neither heaven nor hell,
I know, my God, I would love you yet.
Loving you is my happiness as much as my duty.
not give me nothing, so even though I pray:
the love I have for you does not need hope.
is not the sky that you have promised;
and not even hell, with its territories,
makes me away by the trade.
But I love you, my God, seeing you like this,
nailed to this cross on your purple blood.
your wounds that I love you, and your death,
what I love is your love.
Beyond your gifts and your hopes,
even though there was neither heaven nor hell,
I know, my God, I would love you yet.
Loving you is my happiness as much as my duty.
not give me nothing, so even though I pray:
the love I have for you does not need hope.
(St. Teresa of Avila)
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