Sing the song of Joyeux Noël.

Quand vous chantez, voux pouvez danser et vous pouvez pleurer.

Dance away the dissatisfaction of life.

the

sorrow.

Away in a manger tuck the cares so paltry.

White snow woman, the eternal untouched,

the form for which the sun doth set,

the fact of sunlight, birth, of consummation.

Oh

how

we

mourn.

What was once known as childhood

now holds but solemnity.

How the stars used to glow but are hidden

for doubt of the heavens that have borne them.

The sadness is rooted in incrédulité,

dans l’incrédulité nous trouvons nos pieds,

avec nos pieds que nous courons

du souffle de la vie.

‘Tis on this day the light does not shine,

it trickles through our guarded hearts

where emotions stands as a sentry,

where l’amour is turned away by our brutal hurt.

For fear of damnation we do not turn away,

we try too hard and strain our souls,

till exhaustion blights our choice,

till we lose all cognizance.

On Christmas Day we cheer, “Joyeux Noël,”

but we do not know, our tongues feel foreign

for the words are not ours, they are Hers.

It is her Christmas and His, and

to this we are immaculate believers.

Nous voulons être que nous ne pouvons pas voir.