A Árvore da Cruz
Beatriz Andrade
The Tree of the Cross
I wanted to know from the woodcutter himself
What wood he used to make the cross
Although I feel that the tree
Cried when it fell to the ground
And the axe that carved it
Blinded by so much emotion
The cross was the heaviest
On the outside there was only wood
But inside were my sins
On the outside there was only wood
But inside were my sins
I wanted to know what the executioner felt
When he struck Jesus
With forty lashes
Creating so many welts on the one
Who only did good
Maybe the executioner felt
The pain of the lashes too
The cross was the heaviest
On the outside there was only wood
But inside were my sins
On the outside there was only wood
But inside were my sins
I wanted to know why the earth trembled
And the Sun withdrew and night fell
If it was a protest to the crime
Of the author of creation
They proved to have more feelings
They proved to have more heart
The cross was the heaviest
On the outside there was only wood
But inside were my sins
On the outside there was only wood
But inside were my sins
On the outside there was only wood
But inside were my sins
On the outside there was only wood
But inside were my sins
