Hither creation was made, let us sing hymns to praise our Creator.
Nourished from above with manna, lifted heels of contempt against their benefactor.
Joesph is buried by Nikodemos, body of the Creator.
Oh my sweet spring, my sweetest child, where does your beauty fade?
Son of God, Almighty, my God and Creator, How can I receive your passion?
Women with spices, came very early in the morning to sprinkle the grave with perfume.
O my Holy Trinity, Father, Son and Spirit, have mercy on the world.
Allow us to serve you Virgin, to see you son's resurrection