Classic Poem

What do I have that you seek my friendship?
What do you hope to gain, oh dear Jesus,
that at my door, covered with dew,
you spend the somber nights of winter?

Oh! how cruel my heart was then,
for I did not open to you. What strange madness
if the icy chill of my ingratitude
dried out the wounds of your pure feet!

How many times the angel said to me:
“Soul, look out your window
and see how, with so much love, He persists in calling!”

And how many times, oh Supreme Beauty,
“I will open tomorrow” was my answer,
only to make the same answer the next day!