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« In
celebration of this divine and holy festival of the Mother of God, let the
faithful come and clap their hands to extol the God she conceived.
Very holy
marriage chamber of the divine Word, cause of our common deification,
rejoice O immaculate Virgin, glory of the Prophets who celebrated you,
adornement of the Apostles, rejoice. »
6th Ode for the Saturday of the Acathist Hymn
Endless summer night, you descend into our fascinated hearts
with the grace of peach tree petal carried by the parfumed kisses
of a passionate tender breeze. You touch the tops of the cypress trees
and they put on purple and shadow, more dignified and elegant
than the porphyrogenetic emperors of Byzantium.
You come like the Archangel Gabriel
in a full mauve robe decorated with a thousand precious embroideries,
your long radiant hair
floating around the humble petunias in the garden,
you look innocent, virgin of all desire
with the scent of infinite heaven in your starry eyes.
O
Night, your silky voice lays on our palpitating hearts
sweet rosaries of translucent words
and the quiet music of a thousand dreams filled with wondrous grace !
You touch our pure faces and the brightness of an unfamiliar modesty
suddenly overcomes our elegiac movements
and we slowly swoon
in the peaceful waters of an unexpected tenderness.
You breathe and on your lower lip trembles eternity !
You smile, o Night, and a transparent freshness runs
into the heart of every thing, into the blood of every living being !
Nearby, the night sea
kisses the words of men on the lips !
Small waves of luminous curves, of surges and lulls,
of childlike hesitations and elegant pauses.
O
Night wich makes lofty memories rise towards our taciturn hearts
like fragile little boats loaded with extraordinary treasures !
O generous Night, we give thanks to you, trembling with
gratitude,
for that ineffable moment when fragile silent perfection
attempts to lift our thoughts into the shivering embrace
of the mysteries.
Let us live, O immortal Night, in gardens
where the pages of a poem bloom in shimmering brightness,
let us drink the light of its letters full of soul
and caress their lines in the shape of a copper river !
O
Night, protect us from the falling leaves of our own faces !
Translated from the French by
Norton Hodges
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