XVI NOCHEBUENA

The clattering streets are bright with booths lighted by balancing candleflames ranged with figures in painted clay, Virgins adoring and haloed bambinos, St. Joseph at his joiner's bench Judean shepherds and their sheep camels of the Eastern kings.

Esta noche es noche buena nadie piensa a dormir.

The streets resound with dancing and chortle of tambourines, strong rhythm of dancing drumming of tambourines.

Flicker through the greenish lamplight of the clattering cobbled streets flushed faces of men women in mantillas children with dark wide eyes, teeth flashing as they sing:

La santa Virgen es en parto a las dos va desparir. Esta noche es noche buena nadie piensa a dormir.

Beetred faces of women whose black mantillas have slipped from their sleek and gleaming hair, streaming faces of men.

 With click of heels on the pavingstones boys in tunics are dancing eyes under long black lashes       flash as they dance to the drum of tambourines beaten with elbow and palm. A flock of girls comes running squealing down the street.

Boys and girls are dancing flushed and dripping dancing to the beat on drums and piping on flutes and jiggle of the long notes of accordions and the wild tune swirls and sweeps along the frosty streets, leaps above the dark stone houses out among the crackling stars.

Esta noche es noche buena nadie piensa a dormir.

In the street a ragged boy       too poor to own a tambourine slips off his shoes and beats them together to the drunken reeling time, dances on his naked feet.

Esta noche es noche buena nadie piensa a dormir.

 Madrid

XVII

 The old strong towers the Moors built on the ruins of a Roman camp have sprung into spreading boistrous foam of daisies and alyssum flowers, and sprout of clover and veiling grass from out of the cracks in the tawny stones makes velvet soft the worn stairs   

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