Happy is the gentle man, for he alone possesses himself;
He reigns over his heart, and over the hearts of all;
In his forehead, in his gesture, in his sweet voice;
It is the ills of others the charm and the remedy.
Happy the sorry man who with holy sadness,
Knows how to weep his sins, and drowns them in his tears;
God fills him with joy at the height of his pain;
Her tears are regrets, not weakness.
Man, be happy and joyful in the midst of your troubles:
God counts your fears, your tears and your sighs;
He will welcome you to paradise among all martyrs,
Your reward is ready, and the insults are in vain.