No drama-curtain opens on the
Christmas Crib, as if the scene itself
Must curtain mystery and trap it
In an awesome silence better left
Alone when words would
Only fumble feeble commentary
On the fleshing of Divinity
Moulded figurines grow distinctly
Strange, birthing new perspectives--
The sort you get, perhaps, from
Gazing long at spaces between
Stars or what may lie beyond
Horizons of hills or sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Much like the apostles attempts when witnessing the Transfiguration, human words would be inadequate, and would only showcase our simple minds which are not able to grasp the divine and His plans.