From the East

The heavy snow clouds  menace from  the East
No sun, no light,no golden joy,no thought
Where are our wise men, where is our feast?

On moorlands they  bring down befuddled sheep
In deep snow drifts they are smothered , caught
The heavy snow clouds brood  over the East

Is there wisdom in the human beast?
Does intuition tell? Where is it sought?
Where are our wise men, where is our feast?

In Siberian wastes, the child Christ  speaks
Oh, be now our creative  word, sweet Lord
The heavy snow clouds  protect him  in the East

The feast is here but shared with those the least
The currency is not what rich men bought
We do not see the women, nor the feast

For freedom and for dignity we fought
Yet empty we must be before our God
The heavy snow clouds  gesture from  the East
Here are our wise women, here our feast