De nuit, un nouveau-né nous délivre un message,
Et l’ange appelle les bergers ;
En Jésus, dans l’Esprit, Dieu montre son visage,
Agneau en la crèche hébergé.

De drap emmailloté, en l’enfant Innocent,
Le Ciel est descendu sur terre ;
Les anges dans les cieux adorent en dansant,
Et chantent le divin mystère.


The Nativity (1)

The angels are singing and from the humble village of
Galilea the miracle Baby is beginning his
return to his Father. Even from the East
they are coming to adore Him - those who believe
that life and history on earth are not
only a domination of nature, but hope
in something transcendent and untouchable,

able to give eternal meaning to
Man’s life, something more
than social mechanics.


La Visitation

Un poème de Marie Noël (1883-1967) paru dans La Revue du Rosaire de mai 2014

La vieille Élisabeth sur sa porte fleurie file,
écoutant des yeux les pas lointains du soir...
Voici par le sentier sa cousine Marie,
celle de Nazareth, qui monte pour la voir.

Voici venir Marie avec sa grand’ nouvelle :
ce qui l’autre semaine en elle est arrivée...
Élisabeth la voit et court au devant d’elle
laissant rouler au vent son fil inachevé.


The Flogging, the Dialogue of the Fools against the Kalos-Agatos

“Outcast from the men, you man of sorrows knowing
the mob
becomes an army against the meek
banning him and stripping him of dignity:

“At last we have won you, dreamer
who will not accept reality; now with this whip
you get to know what life is, and even more
the wild craze
against kalòs-agatòs. “You, charmer, didn’t accept
the animal nature of life, now we’ll make you less than a worm.
And, whiplash on whiplash, life ceases.



Suffering smothers ideas and
makes the word vain. Now the Son
returns to his Father, having on himself
all the suffering of an excruciating
death, and cries out his being denied:
the crux of human folly
come to condemnation does not relieve
the perfect communion between Christ
and man’s destiny.
The dark hour
has reached its apex and the heavenly
powers are upset, the disciples petrified,
the Mother crying, and justice sinks
into the abyss, but the power


God made of her tears - the Rosary

Our Lady wept sweet tears of joy
When first she held her baby boy;
Her son, foretold by angel bright,
New dawn on earth of heaven’s light.

The time had come as well she knew,
The mighty power of God to show;
And Mary wept soft tears of light
In Cana, where the best wine flowed

There, she stood beneath the Cross,
Her lovely head on her bosom bowed;
And Mary’s tears fell one by one,
As she beheld her dying son.


Le silence du tombeau

Voilé sous un simple linceul,
Voici le Fils de Dieu inerte ;
Au tombeau on le laissa seul,
Pleurant sa perte.

Il a donc tout remis à Dieu,
Le Messie, qui Jésus se nomme,
Pour que nous rejoigne en tout lieu,
Le Fils de l’homme.

Toi qui es venu dans le monde,
Quel est le cœur qui a compris
Que ta parole était féconde,
La croix son prix ?



I can’t speak of your death, Jesus,
I only know that death comes out of blind violence
running like a flood from the palaces
of lust and luxury, from the inner surrender to the evil

swallowing every crumb of humanity. Death comes,
and it’s irreverence, the lack of piety mocking your sorrow,
ending with some “It was inevitable”,

remorselessly. Now that I behold your body

which the cross



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