I’ve heard that they call me the woman
Who has fallen into many sins.
They made me bear myrrh to the burial,
And at the graveside, I began to sing.

Woe to me, all of you sinners,
I’m the lady of a moonless night.
The darkness to me is my ecstasy,
But for my sins I am far from contrite.
They dragged me away from the library;
I was cast to the bride-show’s harsh light,
Where I told the king I was better than him,
And thus earned Theophilus’ spite.

And Theo, he still thinks I love him,
But I know him, and he knows not a thing.
They call me Kassiani:
The woman who rejected the king.

The emperor, he tore down the icons,
The images and words thought divine,
But in the quiet of my cell I redrew them all,
And the name that I signed with was mine.
I was scourged with the lash for my impudence,
My tears were a fountain of brine,
But I conceded no defeat, my groaning heart beats
With defiant blue blood Byzantine.

And Theo, he still thinks I love him
But I know him, and he knows not a thing.
Don’t disregard me as a servant, know me
As the woman who rejected the king.

Yes I hid from his eyes when he visited,
But don’t dare think me frightened or meek.
I was sick of his ineffable condescension,
And I will not kiss those sacred feet.
I will make his footsteps into music
To be heard by both heathen and Greek.
They will mock his meanderings in paradise at twilight,
And they’ll remember me: Kassiani,
She who hates silence when it’s time to speak.

And Theo, he still thinks I love him,
He knows not the multitude of my sins.
They will sing my song after Byzantium has gone:
The woman who rejected the king.

I’ve heard all the things that they’ve called me;
It’s just so many arrows and slings.
Leave the glory to the stepmother, and to the son,
I'm the woman who rejected the king.