Veni, veni, venias
Carmina Burana
Come, Come, O Come
Come, come, o come
Come, come, o come,
don't make me die
hircine, hircine, nazarene,
trillirivos...
Your face is beautiful
the sharpness of your eyes,
the series of your hair,
oh, what a bright appearance!
More red than a rose,
whiter than a lily,
more beautiful than all,
I always glory in you!
