Image of Marqorewos of Dabra Dəmāḥ

The eyes of my heart, enlighten, that they may draw the image; and my tongue, let it be revealed by the foot of my mind which ascended. O Lord, grant me a discourse on Marqorewos of Dərg. Let it be swallowed into my belly until it fills the cavity. In the hollow of my lips, I will cut off the love of you, a river. Salutation to the memory of your name, the grace of help which is in it, like Yohannəs the Baptist, the wine which made drunk the one who was bitter. Marqorewos, my father, from the foundation of faith, revealer. I will recount your greatnesses and your beauties, I will relate them. They make the angels rejoice and the heart of man, the dead. Salutation to the crown of your head, like the word of the wise book. It is likened to the crown of Christ, which was placed on a Wednesday. And in me, O pure Marqorewos, your likeness is a gift. And your wings are flowers of many blossoms. A bride from your house will draw milk. Salutation to the hair of your head, which is like that of ʾƎnṭonyos the first, which the land of Kenya shaved for the praise of the world by the hand of the priest. Marqorewos, my father, teacher of faith, the unshakable. There is no Jew and no Muslim who has heard your name abandoned in the desert.

Salutation to your tomb, after you took up the matter of the covenant. The sinners of the world, all of them, by which you save. And because of this you are named in the sweet melody of the tongue. I have nourished and kept alive Marqorewos, and drink of the medicine of wine. Having heard your news, the ear is filled. Salutation to your miracle at the hour of the glorious liturgy. The holy church, when it is turned about in fear. Marqorewos of Arsani, your perfect monasticism. Your struggle embraced you, and fasting encircled you. And because of this you are praised in sweet melody. Salutation to your miracle, which is more abundant than flowers. And your help is more abundant than grasses. Marqorewos, the drop for the shoot of the vine of life. Satan, the foundation of all iniquity, is driven away from the threshold of your house, which is the sanctuary of Christ. I have offered streams of salutation for the remembrance of your praise continually. For each one, while I open my mouth. Marqorewos, grant me what does not pass away, a passing thing. Your image is painted in the number fifty. And then, by weakness, the multitude of them remains.