Come into my night;
the darkness is so cold
that sparrows flee
my winter trees,
so I have closed
my windows and my doors.
I horde my little warmth.
Crickets will not sing delight
and stars no longer glimmer
in winter’s dreary night.
O come,
O come, Emmanuel!
I am captive and dull.
I cannot see the flashing stars
that lurk beyond the cloud.
O come into my small house
and my meager fire share.
O come, and bring fierce angels
to cut away death’s empty snare!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem