English translation from Latin by Ignace Verberk

J: Oh mother dear mother
M: What is it, what is it oh son?, what is it?
J: Oh mother, I have something to say. Oh mother. Thank you for your virgin mother’s milk, thank you.
M: Who do you say? oh son?
J: For the blood you gave.
M: Son
J: For the flesh which you have supplied
M: What do you say?
J: Thank you

M: Beloved son, who do you say, what is it?
J: Mother, thank you for your care and concern, for your sorrow and for your bitterness.
M: Son of gold, what do you say? son, dear son, what do you say?
J: For the bandage with which you bound me, for the food with which you fed me. Thanks, dear mother, thank you. Here I go
M: Ah where my son?
J: To punishments, to wounds, to thorns, to the cross, to death
M: What do you say? What are you talking about? Where do you go? Alas, my son!
J: Behold, I am going to death
M: Ah, so much loved son, do you speak in a parable? What do you say? Where do you go?
J: To wounds, to the thorns, to the punishments, to the cross, to death.
M: What are you talking about? What do you say? Where do you go? Hey me, son!
J: Behold, I go to death. What an unbearable fate!
M: Let me, my son, hold me as best I can
J: Mother, let me remain pious
M: Oh my so much beloved son, leave me, leave me not!
J: Mother, remember Simeon when I was lying in a cradle. This is the hour when the sword has pierced your soul. Farewell, mother, behold, I will be captivated,  severely scourged, crowned with thorns, nailed to the cross, I will die on the cross, I will be buried

M: I will be captured with you, scourged, crowned with you, be crucified, die with you, be buried with you.
J: So does bitter death separate? O son of God, unworthy fate!
M: So does bitter death separate, o son? O God, unworthy fate! Without you, my son, my honey, I cannot live. That they move, ah, that my maternal entrails move you!
J: Don’t  you want that my father’s will is done?
M: Ah, that your father’s will be done.
J: May my father’s will be done. Farewell, Mother!
M: Will you then leave me desolate?
J: On the third day I will visit you. Farewell, dear mother!
M: But in the mean time I will lose my breath. Farewell, my son, my Father! When I talk more I don’t know, tied hands on one side, bending knees to venerate, to supplicate I ask such a blessing.
J: Chosen mother
M: I ask for your blessing.
J. That Father bless you
M: Ah, my son, my son!
J: I lift up my hand over you on the cross on which I hang for a little while longer. Goodbye.
M: And I’m hanging on together. Ah my heart is broken, the breast is extremely distressed.
J: Farewell, woman
M: Farewell, Jesus
J: mother
M: Son
J/M: Farewell, fa…