What I lost, you ask?

My peace and confidence in my own heart,

which betrayed itself and the goodliness it bids me preach in one moment of worldly fervour,

and now I feel this same, passionate blood screaming its own treachery in my veins, vexed by its perfidious vessel.

What I lost, you ask?

O! Only any hope for salvation in this life or in the next.

The words of my sermons hold no note of hope for me, their speaker,

and now I must languish in a world where no priest dwells who can pray me to heaven.

What I lost, you ask?

Of my amassed corporeal sin, all the greater is my corporeal loss – that of my daughter.

I am not, and shall never be, free to embrace her as her mother may – one more tendril of Hell-fire to torment me in my damnation.

Now I shall guide her as best I can in seeking her Heavenly Father, for her earthly one is unworthy of her.

Something I will never lose is my penitence,

For though my unholy love for my child's mother may still remain so deep within this sinner's heart,

what happiness it hath granted me pales before the filth I know resides eterne therein.

I will repent evermore, and even still, will draw my last breath in amorous, depraved lamentation.