Original Text
En un portalejo pobre
de vnas groseras pizarras
cuya tosca cara afeyta
el sol iman de la escarcha
Esta Dios en un pesebre
con un vestido de grana
y aunque la grana es de polvo
oy haze de polvo gala.
la tierra es çielo carne la palabra
y la madre virgen y el portal alcaçar.
Por cama escogio vn pesebre
y aunque es de campo
le puso el cielo de estrellas
y las cortinas de paja.
Y con el tiempo inclemente
escupe siersos y elados
baja la cama a vn portal
porque de amores se abrasa.
la tierra es çielo, carne la palabra
y la madre virgen y el portal alcaçar.
Son los doçelos dos soles
y las telas telarañas
que con las luzes del niño
paresen de oro y nacara.
Es el portal parayso
y cherubines le guardan
con ramos de verde oliva
en ves del fuego y la espada.
la tierra es çielo carne la palabra
y la madre virgen y el portal alcaçar. |
English Translation
In a lean-to shed, constructed
of rough-hewn slabs of slate,
whose coarse outline the sun
bedecks by attracting hoar-frost
lies God in a hay-trough.
His bunting is but hay;
yet though the hay’s but dust,
today this dust is finery.
Earth becomes heaven, the Word becomes flesh,
a Mother this maiden, this cow-shed a palace!
As bed, He chose a manger,
and though it’s in the open,
from straw it draws its curtains,
and for its ceiling, stars.
And though the inclement weather
blows bitter winds and frosts,
in this shed, the bed’s a bower
for it’s warmed by love’s own glow.
Earth becomes heaven, the Word becomes flesh,
a Mother this maiden, this cow-shed a palace!
Mary’s sun-like eyes its canopy,
its drapes are spider-webs;
but through the eyes of the Child
they’re mother-of-pearl and gold!
This stable now is paradise
and cherubim watch over it,
not with fire and the sword,
but branches of sprouting olive.
Earth becomes heaven, the Word becomes flesh,
a Mother this maiden, this cow-shed a palace! |
