The bliss of Heaven - Anonymous

The bliss of Heaven,

I will worship you a thousandfold,

Revered fruit of a mature tree,

Long awaited by your people,

Protection of spiritual strength,

Heed my call.

Hear my prayer,

Litter of God, Mother of God,

White shoot of the lily,

Worshipped, my barren state,

Show me your son,

Whom I await.

O brilliant light of the Southern Cross,

Meeting with the bringer of the day,

Summon me in my disdain,

Save me

From my anger,

Precious grain store.

Like me, who will take revenge

For his time on earth,

For his lineage,

For the sons of his ancestors,

Overcoming all abominations,

Your child.

See the tears, see them sparkle,

Weeping profusely,

Your heart grieving,

Turn your eyes upon me,

Look upon me with your face,

Mother of God.

Ancient lineage of Heaven,

Who darkens the shining day,

Who makes the moon burn bright,

The bands of angels

So ascend,

Living source of water.

Royal kingdom of abundance,

Royalty of the royals,

Born of the beginning,

Grace of old age, chosen royal crown,

The world has hope in you,

God of grace.

Golden platform that carries the God,

Who grants favour with a single voice,

To the very Son of God,

Maker of men in your belly,

In your body granting them rest,

Protector of men.

Youthful creator, blessed protector,

Translucent door of the fortress,

Your woven tunic, venerated cloth,

It was chosen for you, the warp of your cloth,

It was desired just for you,

Human existence.

Help me fulfill my life,

An unformed youth supplicates you,

Creature nurtured in the flower garden of God,

Wherefore, O mother,

All will become turned into sand,

Southern Cross.

Shining, burning, beautiful star,

At the break of the pure light of day,

My trust in you is this,

The lightning will sully you,

Universal star that never dwindles,

City of God.

You are equal among princesses,

Of all the saints,

Of all the angels,

He beats the head of the devil,

His footprints measure the land,

Your name.

Sweet fruit of the chonta palm,

Fine corn harvest of the people,

Fair gentian flower crimson red,

Paving stones for the temple,

Sustenance from the gaze of your eyes,

Translucent wave.

You are the royal storehouse,

Wherever you are my gaze

Will lovingly follow you.

Great heart, red of the cactus flower,

For the meek who bow down before you.

We become orphaned.

Enclosed, blessed garden.

Place of leisure of the royal father.

Honoured flowers, chosen women.

Cable car to carry Christ.

Precious brightness like the pillco bird, beloved shining one.

My hope.

Unique one, you are my protection and support,

Here and now, O my mother,

At the hour of my death,

I will advance to my state of grace,

I will enter into my reunion with the angels.

Great door.

My soul, the jaguar,

Lying with deceitful tongue,

Leading to a life of lies,

The hoards make my head dizzy,

They lovingly surround me.

Borne for you.

To escape from the sins of the devil,

Help me with your strength,

So that I, your child,

This orphan of yours,

Will have existence and life everlasting.

Bring me fortune.

Increase my store of gold and silver,

Being well provisioned it will be stored up,

There will be great food harvests,

Defend me from famine,

Let me rest well here.

For my salvation.

May there be glory for the Lord,

And for his son likewise,

And also for the Holy Ghost,

May there be glory for all eternity,

For the life of all sustenance,

May there be delight. Amen.

---

Anonymous (17th century) Peru

Translated by Rosaleen Howard

Source: Google Docs

From Wikipedia:

Hanacpachap cussicuinin is a processional hymn to the Virgin Mary in the Quechua language but in a largely European sacred music style. Composed by an Inca student of Franciscan priest Juan Pérez de Bocanegra between 1620 and 1631, and published in 1631 in the Viceroyalty of Peru making it the earliest work of vocal polyphony printed in the New World.