Each night, upon this hillside,
I wait for an Angel to return.
In vain, beneath a star dimmed sky,
From which Heaven's light does no longer burn.
Among these sheep, how can I stay?
Having heard the proclamation
That God, reborn, now lives among us;
Heir to the throne of every nation
Thirty years, I must endure the waiting
For my Prince to become a Man.
Three decades more, of poverty and oppression,
As part of some ineffable plan.
In truth, I cannot bear the memory
Of the world's facade being so cruelly torn.
The fear remains, that drove me to my knees:
My life means less than a child's, so newly born.