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by Tejji

martes, 15 de abril de 2014

Hosanna in excelsis
by Father Terzio

Taken from

Translated from the Spanish by Roberto Hope

We have followed Him: from the Mount of Olives we have walked among the people who acclaimed Him waving olive branches and golden palms. We also cut branches which looked like silver and silk when we swayed them as He passed, acclaiming him with the children and the youth who surrounded the donkey He rode. How beautiful His features! His face shines with light more luminous than the Sun; I don't know how to express it, but His look, serene and exquisite irradiates a splendour of peace, of grace. His deep eyes are, when they peer, a well of mercy, of compassion and haleness, reflecting purity, mistery, power and humility at the same time, irresistible, wise, comforting, peaceful and pious.
From the height of the Mount of Olives, we saw the beautiful vision of golden Jerusalem, golden its skies, golden its walls, golden the Temple. And we saw Him weeping, also with golden tears which from His eyes left a mark with gold of sorrow on his cheeks and shined as gold tips on His beard. He wept for Jerusalem who did not recognize Him, for the Jerusalem that did not raise olive and palm branches as he passed, for those in Jerusalem who refused to open the door of their souls, and hardened their hearts as stone, insensible to His word. He wept bitterly, with slow sobs, galled of the disappointments, treasons, denials, forsakings. He weeped but did not cease to irradiate consolation; even when weeping He conveyed light and glory, peace and grace.
When he reached the gates of the Holy City, the people laid their garments on his path, for Him to tread on them, and covered the way with twigs of myrtle and rosemary. Women uncovered their faces and opened their arms, blessing Him as if they were His mother, as though they were His wife. When He looked at them, they knelt, kissed His feet; with trembling and reverent shyness touched His hands, his tunic, tears flowing with emotion.
The eyes of the men who escorted Him also glittered. Some of his disciples, his Apostles, walked muttering psalms, almost ecstatic; others cheered with the crowd, fervently, expanding the joy of that spontaneous triumph afforded by the humble people who believed and loved Jesus the Nazarene.
Then, when we came back, I picked up and kept a small olive bough of those which remained laying on the ground after He passed. I kissed it as though I kissed the feet of the Nazarene, and I put it on my chest as if I were treasuring the key to one hour of Glory with infinite instants of Heaven
He knows not what love is who loves Thee not,
celestial beauty, a husband so handsome
Your head is made of gold, and your tresses
are like the sprout which the palm embowers.
Your mouth is like an iris, which sheds
liquor at dawn; of ivory your neck;
Your hand the lathe and on its palm the seal
which the soul for disguise hyacinths calls.
Oh God! What did I think of when, forsaking
so much beauty and the mortal ones watching,
I lost that which I could be enjoying?
But if I am offended of so much time lost,
such great hurry I will afford, that one hour loving
shall defeat so many years I wasted just pretending

~ Lope de Vega ~

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