There was a church in Umbria, Little Portion,
Already old eight hundred years ago.
It was abandoned and in disrepair
But it was called St. Mary of the Angels
For it was known to be the haunt of angels,
Often at night the country people
Could hear them singing there.
What was it like, to listen to the angels,
To hear those mountain-fresh, those simple voices
Poured out on the bare stones of Little Portion
In hymns of joy?
No one has told us.
Perhaps it needs another language
That we have still to learn,
Poppies in Umbria by Heike Talbert from here
1 comment:
The very thought of Assisi and the surrounding country gives me peace of mind. But then the challenge of Francis and his brothers and sisters is another thing altogether - the desire to imitate Christ as they did - a new language then - and one we still haven't got the hang of now.
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