Oh You, the wisest and most beautiful of angels,
A god betrayed by fate and bereft of praise.
(O Satan, take pity on my long misery!)
Oh Prince of Exile, to whom injustice has been done,
And who in defeat arises more strong.
(O Satan, take pity on my long misery!)
You who know all, Lord of the Underworld,
And the healer of the wounds of humankind.
（O Satan, take pity on my long misery!）
You who even to lepers and outcasts under band
Teach through love and the taste of Paradise.
（O Satan, take pity on my long misery!）
Oh you who gave to Death his faithful concubine,
A child called Hope - demented but divine.
（O Satan, take pity on my long misery!）
You who gave the outlaw the serene and haughty smile
That from the scaffold damns the crowd.
（O Satan, take pity on my long misery!）
You who know in what corners of the Earth
The jealous god has hidden the precious stones.
(O Satan, take pity on my long misery!)
You whose penetrating eyes discern the deep earth arsenals,
Where precious metals sleep.
(O Satan, take pity on my long misery!)
You whose massive hand conceals the precipice,
From the somnambulists on the brink of the edifice.
(O Satan, take pity on my long misery!)
You whose magic softens the drunkard's fall
When flying horses kick him in the skull.
(O Satan, take pity on my long misery!)
You who, to console Man in his suffering,
Taught us to mingle saltpeter and sulphur.
(O Satan, take pity on my long misery!)
You who set your mark, through subtle accomplice,
On the brow of the pitiless, vile millionaire.
(O Satan, take pity on my long misery!)
You who fill the eyes and hearts of girls
With the cult of wounds and love of worthless pearls.
(O Satan, take pity on my long misery!)
Staff of the Exiled, lamp of the inventors,
Confessor of the Hand and the Conspirators.
(O Satan, take pity on my long misery!)
Foster-father of those in his black anger
God the father drove from the earthly paradise.
(O Satan, take pity on my long misery!)
Satan be praised, be glorified on high,
And in the depths of Hell
Where you must lie in Silence,
Ruminating your defeat.
Grant that my soul some day may find
A seat under your tree of knowledge,
Which shall spread its limbs
To make a temple overhead.