All alone in my little cell,
without a single human being in my company:
beloved has been the pilgrimage
before going to the tryst with Death.  
 
A hidden secluded little hut,
that my evil may be forgiven:
a straight unblemished conscience
towards holy Heaven.
 
Sanctifying the body by good habits,
trampling like a man upon it:
with eyes feeble and tearful
for the forgiveness of my passions. 
 
Passions weak and withered; 
renouncing this wretched world;
pure living thoughts,
as it were a prayer to God. 
 
Wailings with eagerness
towards cloudy Heaven,
sincere truly devout confessions, 
swift showers of tears. 
 
A couch cold and fearful, 
as it were the lying down of a condemned man:
a short sleep as if in danger,
frequent early outcries. 
 
My food,  [according to]  my station, 
beloved has been the bondage: 
my dinner, doubtless,
will not make me bloody. 
 
Dry bread weighed out, 
well we lower the face [saying grace, giving thanks];
water of the many-colored slope,
that is the beverage that I would drink. 
 
A bitter meager dinner;
diligently feeding the sick;
keeping off strife as well as visits; 
a radiant smooth conscience. 
 
'Twas a beloved token,
pure blemishes of saints:
cheeks withered and thin,
a shrivelled emaciated skin. 
 
Stepping along the paths of the Gospel;
psalm-singing at every Hour;
an end to talk, to long stories; 
constant bending of knees.
 
My Creator to visit me, 
my Lord, my King; 
my mind to go out to Him
in the everlasting Kingdom in which he is. 
 
This were the end to sins
among the strongholds and great houses in the land:
a delightful little spot full of tombs,
and I alone therein. 
 
All alone in my little cell,
all alone thus;
alone I came into the world,
alone I shall go from it. 
 
If by myself I have transgressed
from pride of this world,
hear me wail for it
all alone, O God.