Oh, my sweet child, your flesh speaks of innocence.
Your white skin bared so completely, seems hardly capable of containing such wickedness
as you have been accused of.
Non-sodom outem sedet gloria amor in tribulezio onibus.
Schi entesco tribulezio patienti an operator, so saith our Lord.
See before you the instrument I must use upon your body, if you refuse to confess your wickedness.
Rough ropes to bind your slender arms behind your back, hoisting your body off the ground
and contorting you into most cruel positions.
Fire and iron to purify your sin through burning pain.
The pair of anguish to open wide your young body at every orifice.
The hoarse, I will not even speak of that implement, praying that it is not necessary
to bend you to such cruelties for your soul's sake.
I see how you tremble to look upon them.
Would it not be simpler to confess?
Do you wish to make your confession?