A golden cross on cardinal red,
This is the day of our holy dead,
A crown of thorns upon his head,
Our Saviour Christ has died.
A golden cross on cardinal red,
Beneath his feet his mother shed,
Tears of anguish, looks of dread,
For her son was crucified.
A golden cross on cardinal red,
What was the final words he said,
‘Forgive them all’ his arms outspread,
‘Forgive them all’ he cried.
A golden cross on cardinal red,
Two thousand years in time has sped,
Since He gave hope, now hope has fled,
And his love is still denied
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
One year ago I began writing my poems with one-stanza poems for each day of the Holy Week. The poem on Good Friday is far better than mine, of course. This poem is simply beautiful.