L'Enfant-Jésus of Prague
Il neige. Grand Le monde est mort sans doute. C'est octobre.
Mais bon qu'il fait, mon Dieu, dans la petite chambre!
The chimney full of coals glowing
Colours the ceiling reflects a sleepy
And we only hear the water boiling with little noise.
Up there on the shelf above the two beds,
Under its glass globe, crowned,
One hand holding the world, the other ready
To cover these little ones who put their trust to her,
Any kind in his great coat
solemn and beautiful in this huge yellow hat,
The Infant Jesus of Prague reign and throne.
He is all alone before the fire that illuminates
As the host hiding at the back of the sanctuary,
The Divine Child custody until his little brothers.
unheard as the breath that is exhaled,
The eternal existence fills the room, equal
To all those poor innocent things and naive!
When he is with us no harm comes to us.
can sleep, Jesus, our brother is here.
It is ours, and all these good things too: The doll
wonderful, and the wooden horse,
And the sheep are there in that corner, all three.
And we sleep, but all these good things are ours!
... The curtains are drawn there, nowhere,
In the snow and the night sounds a kind of time. The child in
are lit
chaud comprend qu'il dort avec bonheur et que l'aime quelqu'un qui est là well,
S'agite un peu, vaguement gossip, you sort words, it
Essay of reveille et ne peut pas.
Paul Claudel
Nieva. The world has certainly dead. It's December.
But in the fourth, oh God, how pleasing the environment!
Full of red charcoal chimney
sleepy shades on the ceiling reflects
And only hear the water boiling
singing on the corner between the two cots,
niche in glass, edged head.
the world in one hand, and the other hand provides
to cover those children who have confidence in him,
Thank you kindly in her solemn mantle
And great under her golden crown , Queen
the Infant Jesus of Prague, in full pomp.
is alone. The home front illuminates the
As a host in the bottom of the hidden shrine,
his two brothers A Child-God watches. Very
remains as exhaled breath most sweet,
All eternal life is filling the room,
These poor things innocent and naive.
if he is with us, we will know no sorrow.
Well we sleep, our brother Jesus
are here and with it the best love.
The doll, horse, white carnerito,
There in that corner lie the three together.
And we sleep, but all that is ours!
Cream curtains ... A clock in the distance,
in the snow and the night takes one hour undecided.
The child, in the warmth of her bed, guess
sleeping and there by someone who wants it.
Shake, babbles, a tiny, distended. Try
wake - try, but can not.
Translation JOSE ANGEL Battistessa
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