All of us — righteous and sinners,
Born in prison, raised at the altar,
All of us are funny actors
In the theater of the Creator.

The Lord sits on His throne,
Merrily follows the show.
Brightly on His sumptuous gown
Sparkles and golden stars glow.

Oh, how easy and pleasant
Is the empyrean staging!
Mary the Virgin is content,
Finds the libretto engaging:

— Hamlet? He has to be pallid.
Cain? He should be audacious…
Audience takes in angelic
Shiny victorious trumpets.

God leaning forward is watching,
He is caught up in the drama…
Pity if Cain is crying,
Hamlet will have blissful moments!

That goes against His intentions!
To avoid deviations,
God will entrust the production
Into Pain's hands, a deaf titan.

Now the pain's shooting higher
Cunningly webbing and freely,
Those who choose to retire,
Are castigated severely.

Tortures grow out of proportion
Fear and dismay — even greater;
What if continues His celebration
In the theater of the Creator.