Jesus In Cell

Last night Jesus entered my cell.
Oh, how sad was Christ, how tall!
The moon entered after him the cell,
and made Him taller and sadder, I recall.

His hands were like lilies on graves,
Eyes as deep as forests' lands,
The moon threw silver on his garments in waves,
silvering His big, pierced hands.

I got up from under the old, gray blanket of mine:
- God, where do you come from? From what age, tell me, please?
Jesus gently put a finger to His mouth as a sign,
motioned for me to be quiet and at ease...

He sat next to me on the mat full of dust...
- Put your hand on my wounds, on my veins,
On his ankles were shadows of wounds and rust,
It was as if he had once worn chains...

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poem by Radu Gyr, translated by Marius Alexandru
Added by anonym
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