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“Holy night, holy night! Peace on high held in the stars' yoke! All—that ever the Light had broke, Is rejoined now, Both flesh and brow Bleed sweetly in the red-dusk! Bjelbog's Spear, Bjelbog's Spear Sinks to the heart of the drunk earth, Which—with a sign of holy mirth A lone rose-bloom Within the womb Of the darkest desire dips. Spotless bride, spotless bride! Your sweet contrition—cover up, When the full-filled wedding cup Yet overflows. Thus also goes Into the fierce Night the Day!” — Clemens Brentano
Holy night, holy night!
Peace on high held in the stars' yoke!
All—that ever the Light had broke,
Is rejoined now,
Both flesh and brow
Bleed sweetly in the red-dusk!
Bjelbog's Spear, Bjelbog's Spear
Sinks to the heart of the drunk earth,
Which—with a sign of holy mirth
A lone rose-bloom
Within the womb
Of the darkest desire dips.
Spotless bride, spotless bride!
Your sweet contrition—cover up,
When the full-filled wedding cup
Yet overflows.
Thus also goes
Into the fierce Night the Day!