Christmas Poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
Christmas
The night is short like a breath
and long like a cry -
a woman who hard is giving birth of
a day.
A flame, glimmered above water:
one and only,
invisible,
sacred.
Immovable star.
Nothing born in Spirit
passes away.
Neither does it repeat.
The circle is broken -
after the life, a life is coming.
O, mother - give a birth!
A God's voice over the dark:
'He was born...'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/4/2024 5:50:49 PM # 1.0.0.1119
