Not for this, O God, did I give up love,
that You promised me entire heavens;
not for this did I always tremble before You,
that I feared the cruel punishments of hell.
But the thought that moves me is this constant one,
how Your breast, nailed to the cross, grows white,
the wounds of Your body,
Your death and its unspeakable horror move me.
Your love binds me, that if there were no heaven,
I would still be faithful to You,
and if there were no hell, I would fear You.
Do not give me anything, for I love You still:
Heaven, even if I do not hope for it,
I would still love You as I do now.
(sonnet previously attributed to St. Teresa of Jesus,
translation Otto F. Babler, 1925)
