It crowns victor's. Jeshua's poem. In the garden of Gethsemane It began your holy passion, You loaded with our sins, Us to give you the salvation. With the face in land you were praying Sweating drops of blood, Your sad face you were crying out the Saint Father: Your soul is very sad, Your death is closely together, There does not have the one who accompanies him A span for the price Of our disobedience. In the Garden Gethsemane, Everything has changed in me, I have my soul in Christ, I am not afraid to dying. Already they come, already they come ahead it goes The one that is going to deliver you... Sigh what pain, sigh that pain, We make you alone with your holy passion! Jerusalem, Jerusalem, What sad late afternoon, The sky guards silence For Jesus of Nazareth. Jerusalem, they are heard in your streets Weeping and pain, echoes of hammer Fixing the Redeemer. It was observed in the sky It crowns victor's, In the land they encircled it With thorns of pain. The enraged seas He was gathering his clamor The felt sorry viento They were caressing the Gentleman. They penetrated his side And the rain kissed it The moistened land In his blood it bathed. Blood and water went out That give us the salvation: Water that cleans the filthy thing, Blood of reference. Jeshua's poem. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Corona de vencedor. Poema de Jeshua. En el huerto de Getsemaní empezó tu santa pasión, cargaste con nuestros pecados, nos darte la salvación <b>...</b>
Poemas
