Birth of Christ

-Sor Juana Ines De La Cruz

Of the most fragrant rose
He was born the most beautiful bee,
On whom the dew clean
He gave pure material.

Born then, and just born,
When in the same currency,
What pearls received
Start paying in pearls.

Weeping dawn, not much
It is customary in its beauty;
But who is there not admire
That the sun pour tears?

If by seconding the rose,
It is idle diligence,
It is not necessary to spray
After birth the bee.

Especially when at the close
His virginal purity
Nor history could have,
Nor can there who happen,

Why, to that end it is crying,
sweetly waters?
Who can not bear more fruit
What matters is that sterile?

But alas, that has bee
Intimate dependence
Always with the rose,
Your life depends on it;

For giving pure nectar,
Beget their fragrances,
Not only before you conceive
But then feeds him.

Son and mother in so divine
Peregrinas skills,
None is debtor,
And both are required.

Bee pays the dew
The rose engenders,
And she again retornarle with
Just as the breeds.

Helping each other
With mutual correspondence,
The fertile bee flower,
And it sustains the bee.

Well if that's the crying,
Jesus, cried in Norabuena
That expending in dew
He charged after nectar.