Fallen asleep, unceasingly wakeful,
Eyes closed in death, with life overbrimming,
In darkness enshrouded, unquenchable light,
Fruitfully barren, aflame, yet unburnt;
Field unsown yielding harvest of bread,
Receptacle hidden encompassing heaven,
Marble unquarried and pigment unmixed,
Whence sculpted and sculptor, image and imaged;
Virginal mother, bride though unwedded,
Departed, remaining, and never forsaking;
Each tear of her orphans dispelled by her hand,
Her tomb of great sorrow with blossoms bursts forth.
An Unworthy Priest
In giving birth you preserved your virginity;
In falling asleep you did not forsake the world, O Theotokos;
You were translated to life, O Mother of Life,
And by your prayers, you deliver our souls from death.
Neither the tomb, nor death could hold the Theotokos,
Who is constant in prayer and our firm hope in her intercessions.
For being the Mother of Life, she was translated to life
by the One who dwelt in her virginal womb.
Most-Holy Theotokos, save us!
Υπεραγία Θεοτόκε, σώσον ημάς!
Пресвятая Богородице, спаси нас!
Preasfântă Născătoare de Dumnezeu, mântuieşte-ne pe noi!
A blessed feast of the Dormition of the Most-Holy Theotokos and Ever-Virgin Mary!