TRADUTTORE TRADITORE

Every translator is a traitor. And yet one tries. Confronted with Hermann von Reichenau's medieval hymn "Salve Regina" I was pained by the languorous rosewater sentimentality of the translations I found. So what do you do? You stick your neck out. Here, for what it's worth, is my small effort. 

Salve, Regina, mater misericordiae:
Vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve.
Ad te clamamus, exsules, filii Hevae.
Ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes
in hac lacrimarum valle.
Eia ergo, Advocata nostra,
illos tuos misericordes oculos
ad nos converte.
Et Iesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui,
nobis, post hoc exsilium ostende.
O clemens: O pia: 

O dulcis Virgo Maria.

Hail, Majesty, mother of mercy, hail,

Our life, our sweetness, and our hope.

Eve’s children, exiles, here we call to thee,

Lamenting, weeping, here we sigh to thee,

here in this vale of tears.

Turn, then, thou who plead’st for us,

to us thine eyes of mercy.

And after this our exile show us

Jesus, thy womb’s blest fruit.

Thou merciful, thou gravely reverent,

exquisite Virgin Mary.

Note: 'and after this our exile' is of course the last line of section IV inT.S. Eliot's "Ash Wednesday".