Dies irae, Dies illa

Day of wrath! That day
Will dissolve the world in ashes
As David and the Sibyl testify!

How great will be the tremor
When the judge comes
To strictly examine all things!

The trumpet, spreading a wondrous sound
Through the graves of the regions
Will gather all before the throne.

Death will be stunned, and nature
When creation rises again
Will respond to the judge.

A written book will be brought forth
In which everything is contained
From which the world will be judged.

Therefore, when the judge sits
Whatever is hidden will appear
Nothing will remain unpunished.

What will I, a wretched man, say then?
To whom will I plead for help
When even the just man is barely safe?

King of tremendous majesty
Who freely saves those to be saved
Save me, fountain of mercy.

Remember, gentle Jesus
That I am the reason for your way
Do not lose me on that day.

Seeking me, you sat down weary
You redeemed me, suffering on the cross
Such great labor should not be in vain.

Just judge of vengeance
Grant the gift of remission
Before the day of reckoning.

I groan, like a guilty one
My face is red with guilt
Spare the supplicant, God.

You who absolved Mary
And heard the thief
You also gave me hope.

My prayers are not worthy
But you, good one, act kindly
Lest I burn in eternal fire.

Grant me a place among the sheep
And separate me from the goats
Setting me on your right side.

When the cursed are confounded
And given to fierce flames
Call me with the blessed.

I pray, a suppliant and bowed
My heart crushed like ashes
Take care of my end.

That day will be full of tears
When the guilty man rises from the ashes
To be judged.

Therefore, spare this one, God
Pious Lord Jesus
Grant them rest. Amen.