"The curtain rises. The room. It seems that a crime has been committed here - a woman’s body is stretched out before the bed in a long shirt. It seems lifeless.
Silence ... A woman rises, changes her posture and again falls into stillness. Then, as if deciding on something, she gets up, takes the coat from the bed and, after a pause before the telephone, goes to the door.
As she touched the doorknob, the telephone rang. She rushes to him. The coat prevents her, with a sharp kick of the leg she throws it to the side and picks up the phone.
From that moment on, she said, standing, with her back to the audience, facing them, in profile, on her knees, behind the back of the chair, laying her head, then leaning back, walking around the room, carrying the telephone cord to the limit, until finally Don't fall flat on the bed. Her head hangs lifelessly, and the pipe, falling out of her hands like a stone, falls to the floor with a bang. "
Mother of the Sorrow stood
And in tears at the cross looked,
On which the Son suffered.
A heart full of excitement
Respiration and languor
A sword pierced her chest.
What kind of grief and sorrow the Mother of God enlightened tormented; As she suffered, as she trembled, As in torment she contemplated the Flour on Her born.
Who could not harshly severe See Mother of Christ Tears incomparable? Who could, without regret, Meet Mother torment With the Son divided?
For the sake of sinful redemption She sees the Christ of torment, From the scourges of the Coming. The dear one sees the Son, As His demise is oppressed by the Spirit of the one who betrays.
Mother, love is the eternal source, Give from the depths of the heart Tears I share with you, Give me fire, so much Love Christ and God, So that He is pleased with me.
Holy Mother, in the gift of the wonderful All You are the sores of the death of the cross My heart is impressed. Give me to the crucible For me, the Son of the Sufferer Spilled in my soul.
Let me cry, give torment, O Crucified to lament the Age, while I drag out my life, To stand at the Cross with You And leaning to Your soul with my soul I want to hit the chest.
Virgo, of all the sufferings of Mati, In the mercy of grace Let me suffer with You, Give the suffering of Christ Becoming an accomplice, I again take wounds to everything.
Let that scourge torment me, The cross in me ignites All the love for the Suffering. Let me burn with a holy joy Be, O Virgin, with a fence for me on the day of judgment.
Let my cross multiply my strength, Let the death of Christ help the idleness of jealousy, How to cool down a body in death, So that my soul soared To a paradise of the reserved.