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 death 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 pass away in you And through death become unified with the One who died on behalf of me