The autumn has to arrive, will it be autumn for this disease
Or the autumn for me; a question remains, not mine to decide
I cannot know who cares for me when I've gone, so I'll receive all the care while I still breathe
For when I'm buried, I've gone into oblivion, I'm forgotten, sunk into the waters of Lethe
In communion I receive not only bread but as well your given Son's flesh
Thus I become an ark, a monument and the grave of your most blessed Son
Through communion he and every merit he gained by his own d**h
Become buried within me, making me alive in this world, immortal in the one to come
Allow me to see, O Lord, that not the most fierce disease; no contrition of sin, temptation from Satan
Or prison of decease; not this malady bed, not even grave; dark and confined can deprive me
From that intent and desirable aspiration You have sealed for my fate
The greatest indication of your mercy is to pa** away in you
And through d**h become unified with the One who died on behalf of me