Sem Eira Nem Beira

José worked in the carpentry,
caring lovingly for his Maria.
Maria waited for her time to come,
in her womb, she carried her child and Lord.
But then a decree ripped them from their home,
which witnessed the purest love.
And so it was that before you were born,
you found yourself banished by the emperor.
Through long roads that you couldn't yet see,
with no roof, no edge, you quietly followed.
In your mother's womb, you were hidden, heading
to where your Father in Heaven commanded.
But in Bethlehem, you found no place to stay,
Maria, tired, couldn't wait.
And so you were born, gazing at the stars,
in the womb of the earth, far from home.
Your poverty hid a secret,
and in that palace, the boss was scared.
They say a paranoid and sick king,
in a mad gesture, ordered you killed.
But then José, hurried and distressed,
fled to Egypt to protect you.
And so it was that still small and quiet,
you found yourself exiled to survive.
You returned from exile to Galilee,
where the king's son ruled Judea.
In the carpentry of the village house,
you posed no danger at all.
José and Maria saw you growing,
and there it was one for all and all for one.
But then the faithful carpenter died,
you took Maria to Capernaum.
Life was hard, the days went by,
the time had come, and you were leaving home.
Someone asked where you lived,
you answered what millions say.
"If you want to know the path I take,
follow my trail, come see and feel.
The birds of the sky and the foxes have homes,
but I don't even have a place to sleep."
I see the miracles of architecture,
enormous colossi tearing through the heights.
And I think of the people who suffer and endure
for lack of a roof, love, and bread.
And I read the decree that takes them from their roof
because they didn't pay their boss and creditor.
And you who have been trampled and crushed,
exiled and humiliated. Free your people, free Lord.
And you who have been trampled and crushed,
exiled and humiliated. Free your people, free Lord.