Image of Zenā Māryām

Salutation to the memory of your name, which the Creator exalted, in honor and glory above the names of the children of the house of Nero. The story of Mary, the blessed one, my hymn has sung; and with you may my dwelling be, as it is with the one who dwells. When the vast sea is stirred, the leopard rages. Salutation to the hair of your head, which the braid adorns; it is very fragrant, more than the scent of jasmine and the fragrance of myrrh. The story of Mary, the dove, whose nestling you have taken in; your virginity has been fulfilled, and your sevenfold praise has been glorified, like the daughter of the virgin flesh of the judge Jephthah. Salutation to your head, a crown of white light, which the Lord will adorn on the day of judgment and sentence. The story of Mary, from the pure one of conduct, from the debt of the hand; Peter rejoices in your righteousness, the teacher of Rome and Saida; and George of Lydda rejoices in your valor. Salutation to your face, in the glorious resurrection, which greatly shines like the two lights. The story of Mary, may the power of your help be for me, when they rise up and multiply against me, the wailing; the heads of the great serpent, their love is a secret.

Salutation to your eyebrows, the time of the struggle until its completion, which desired the sleep of death from the work of weariness and fasting. The story of Mary, the hidden one, the ten holy ones have arranged. Weeping for your little ones before the face of God, the Fount, as Rachel wept for her little ones in Ramah. Salutation to your eyes, which saw by their nature the beauty of the form of the house of the Lord, by the measure of the angelic measure. The story of Mary, the pure one, at the blood of salvation at Golgotha. They were amazed, those who beheld the day of your journey, when it was ten and two hours. Salutation to your ears, for the annunciation of life which was prepared for you. Not so, not so, for the annunciation of life like that of Eve. The story of Mary, your story, where the books have narrated it. In the milk of her mother, as the infant rejoices in its taste, the mind of George, the one who strives in the arena, has found it sweet. Salutation to your lips, the words of the Gospel in their heart. The fullness of the deep springs, which received the hidden ones. The story of Mary, the present one, within the bosom of Abraham in her presence. Lazarus, your breasts, accepted the pain and the sickness. From the midst of the fire, it will save me, for the little one, the dew.

Salutation to your nose, which she made fragrant with praise, the scent of the sacrifice, perfect within the sanctuary of the Holy Trinity. The story of Mary, she proclaimed the torment of hell to the people of Ramses. Woe, the word of yours until its completion comes. The book of the prophets is with them in the law of Moses. Salutation to your lips from the utterance of prayer, which was kindled in the midst of the fire of the holy ones, the hands of the righteous who were justified. The story of Mary, your food is the food of Isaac, the teaching of Rebecca, with the mountain of Sinai, the mountain of the covenant, the summit and the peak. For Jerusalem, the Lady, she prepared finely. Salutation to your mouth, which was sweetened by questioning, for the cross of God which stood behind you in the struggle. The story of Mary, from me I ask you with care, hide me in your wings from the burning of the great fire, as the eagle and the falcon hide their young in their wings. Salutation to your teeth, the white ones which were like the hail that fell for Solomon on Mount Sinai. The story of Mary, the pure one, the story of Mary, the exalted one, the story. Pray for me to the God of righteousness, the judge, when from the lamentation of the dead you will be moved, Sidonia.

Salutation to your tongue, the mother of deed and thought; The reading of prayer, which is perfect without limit; The story of your son, as if it were not a judgment; It makes me run in the path of deed, which has no end. The flower of alabaster, which your love, like a heart, prepares. Salutation to your word, which condemned transgression; From its sound, which surpasses the harp of David in its sound; The story of the house of your law, a good construction; It rises before my face like a narrative of a song; For my house is a house of honey, which is sweet in its taste. Salutation to your breath, which has no weariness; From flower and bloom of blossom; The story of the brothers, the children of the Gospel, which I have arranged; The joy of the world, while it becomes a bride; My mind, old, has blossomed in your deed. Salutation to your throat, which drinks on the day of the evening; Bitter water of the tree in this field of the world; The story of the resurrection, the sign of life for the dead; While they rise from the tombs, the two; When in the womb of death, one remains.

Salutation to your neck, which has spread his grace, manifest; From the spreading of abundance, earthly, of many thoughts and plans; The story of your love, which is recounted from the beginning; your gaze saw the world of flesh with the eye of inner reason; As the wife of Lot looked behind her. Salutation to your collarbones, perfect, which are adorned; for the concealment of sin and transgression; The story from me for the day of the great assembly; Guard me, your lamb, along with the other animals; So that the sin of Gehenna may not burn me. Salutation to your shoulder, which has multiplied the thorns; From the thicket of many trees, the book of your life's deeds shows an example, it says: The story of Mary, the righteous one, the pearl of the sea of Christendom; Save me by your prayer at the time when affliction comes; For I have offered this gift of yours, O my beloved. Salutation to your breast, in the midst of the cave, which is hollow; the mystery of the Godhead, which it conceals; The story of Mary reminds me of the Lord; He has struck down the enemy of him who looked upon him with the eye of wrath; For the miracle is weak and his deed is despised.

Salutation to your bosom, which has spread blessing and grace; In the likeness of a vine upon which it descended without negligence; The story of Mary the Blessed, in the mouth of the chosen, is revealed; My bosom, through your infant, for the Gospel of the Covenant, by law; Not as those born of blood and flesh. Salutation to your hands, which have put on a garment of humility that has been changed; A garment of glory, not from Tyre or the land of Sheba; The story of Mary, the salvation, when you entered into the sanctuary; Rising in the direction of the throne for the kingdom of heaven, its treasury; With those who watched for the day of flame. Salutation to your elbows, within the house of prayer, a dwelling; They were broad like a pillar of bronze in the work of the prophet; The story of Mary, preserve me from the death of corruption, from the fire of destruction, as one who offers and gives; And from its flames, the speaker is merciful. Salutation to your knees, in the measure of earthly delight; Which has not measured a little, as a storyteller tells stories; The story of Mary, the intercessor, from the affliction of the wicked, a high man; He raises me from my fear and the abundance of beautiful compassion; For the priests of the law have instructed me in the night.

Salutation to your womb, in the land of hope, the high one; Its form, which spreads, for the foundation of the grape, the companion of the vine; The story of Mary, the swift one, concerning me, a lamentation; As I can, from the strength of his power, for the angel of grief and woe; For from the beginning, the soul of man became a slayer; Salutation to your bosom, which has passed beyond, spread out; For the land of heaven, the high one, the cross of salvation, by its wonder; The story of Mary the Blessed, in a swift and compassionate manner; Your word to my heart, until it abandons its enmity; The proclamation of hope makes him hear, while he says, Oho; Salutation to your tomb, whose ordinance is exalted; Than the tomb of Rachel, in the pasture of the horse of Ephrathah; The story of Mary the Blessed, for the day of judgment which passes by; Weep for me, lest I find accusation; A likeness of falsehood before the face of him, Martha; In this hymn of your name, when he asks and prays; Within your house, a man, while he passes the night; The story of Mary the Blessed, plead for him; And raise his prayer to the God of righteousness, the bridegroom; For he does not desire, he, the blood of the lamb and the dew;