The Plea

O living and terrible God, replace my prison, this round pit, by a full moon1 and a goblet. Pray, turn the darkness of my hell into a shining light, and this dwelling-place of dusk into an orchard, a blossoming garden. I call to You, O God, out of the depths of my thoughts. I cry out in innocence, not as a rebel or a slanderer. Grant me my wish…

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While the translation is formatted as prose, the original is a poem of ten lines.

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