A baby was born: what a joy in this room!  This humble earth corner with another merriment: Padre Pio’s glorification will become as a gracious endless pages poem.

The Crib

Room where Padre Pio was born,

the bareness makes you even richer.

People who saw you at your birth,

keep inside their hearts the vision

of poor countrymen from Sannio.

Monumental wisdom lives.

They don’t show off affected manners.

Simplicity and roughness make merry

and their way of speaking is essential.

The poorness covers their hearts with gold.

And covered with gold will be the life

of this unknown newborn baby.

Ow he fills the air with cryings,

but in a very near day he ‘ll fill

all the world with wonderful charity.

You are dear, rough door with a ring.

Trivet with the jug and washbasin,

built-in wardrobe and replastered chest,

flooring bricks and barrel vault,

stay there and talk to pilgrims.

Must stay there the trapdoor too, that tells

the scanty winter provisions.

Mum and dad’s photos

and faded Holy pictures

will wait for the magnificent feast.

Translated by Marilisa Cannarsa

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