How do I dare to lay this charred heart, grey with passion's ash, at Your holy feet?

And how can I not?

O, Blissful Mother,

I don't need your bliss.

I need a steady mind, a clean heart, cooler blood.

My thoughts, my thoughts are red and black, blazing with wicked desires and soot-covered memories I'm ashamed for you to see,

But I must place this wicked mind, this grey heart before you because, Ma, I want so much to give them up,

And because (help me, Mother) I want so badly to keep them.