Next day, in the school,
Jeanne Abadie, the girl,
Felt her heart would burst,
If the secret wasn’t let out.
To justify this, she said,
“I gave her only a word,
And not any kind of swear,
That I would reveal it never.”
“So, it isn’t an act of sin,
If I tell this to anyone.”
No more was it a secret,
Out when she broke it.
It embarrassed Bernadette,
But she didn’t mind it.
The girls were too eager
To hear more from her.
From her bright face,
They could well trace,
She would have seen,
The Lady’s of the cavern.
To visit that holy place,
And see Her Lady Grace,
They all followed her
After the school was o’er.
The Lady, expecting her,
Invited her to come near.
She was then lost in trance
In Her Holy presence.
Marie wept and cried,
”Oh my sister is dead, ”
But her face was bright,
And it radiated light.
She kept them tense,
Having lost her sense,
Amidst her intense joy
After seeing the Lady.
Marie ran to her mother,
Saying she was in danger.
Her mother came running,
To see her condition alarming.
The hour of crisis was o’er.
They were happy to see her,
Back alive and not dead.
No danger as such was ahead.
Her mother was happy
But she became angry
For having brought shame
On their family’s name.
She assured her mother,
That she would go never,
To see the Lady once again
Until permission was given.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderful write. So simple and yet so profound. Bernadette's story is for people of all ages. Write on, Rajaram. Warm regards, Sandra