The Christmas’ clouds I don’t know what they have
that they are docile: they don’t put
not at all of malice at the sky:
by the very pure blue they sweetly extends,
at the light of setting they soft ignite
and at night they let to view some star.
It is one of the merriest things
view among clouds the stars shine.
Darkness Of Christmas, you are not darkness;
more I view in you
that not in the clear day.
Oh, night that are passing silent;
Oh, white clouds that by the stars passes;
oh, light, that you are not nowhere mysterious;
oh, portal of Bethlehem, that you are everything everywhere!
When you want to give me more joy
talk me of the Christmas clouded,
and you will view me like girl that dreams,
that laughs at what is seeing with the eyes closed.
Joan Maragall (1860-1911)
Literal translation for intercanvis.es