In the secretive Bethlehem, the sacred throng descends

In the secretive Bethlehem, the sacred throng descends, Heavenly light, on the narrow path of gemstones, Upon the silvery foam, the gentle angels glide, Carrying hopes in their hands, onto the land where calmness lies. Bethlehem arises, bowed by the burden of time, And Joseph with Mary, humility and prayer on their path, In the shadow of a withered shelter, breathing anticipation, In a scene of the holy world, Jesus — the light that comes to bring. Their path, a divine ribbon, laid out in reverie, She, the Virgin, frozen in the timeless moment, silent, In the womb, she conceals the heavenly gift, unparalleled, Where heaven stretches, angels whisper, the Messiah, laid in the humble manger. The foretold birth under the serene astral vault, Arriving at the moment of destiny, in the shelter of straw, he is laid, The most holy son, the messenger of peace, in the chill of the earth. He, the news, embraces the human race, with pure affection to save. Jesus, the great shepherd, in the mystery of the night, he appears, His flock, the faceless multitude, adorn him in high praise, We exalt him, we worship, in body and immortal spirit, For faith unites us, on the path of divine love, unconditionally.