Benedici o Signore

Fog and cold, long and bitter days
While the seed dies, then the miracle
Ancient and ever new of the first blade of grass
And in the summer wind the ears sway:
We will still have bread.

Bless us, O Lord, this offering we bring to you.
Make us one like the bread that you have given us today.

In the rows, after the long winter, the vines tremble.
The dew wraps the first green shoots in silence,
Then the colors of autumn with the ripe clusters:
We will still have wine.

Bless us, O Lord, this offering we bring to you.
Make us one like the wine that you have given us today.