Sem Eira Nem Beira
José trabalhava na carpintaria,
cuidando zeloso da sua Maria.
Maria esperava chegar sua hora,
no ventre levava seu filho e Senhor.
Mas eis que um decreto os arranca do teto
que foi testemunha do mais puro amor.
E assim foi que antes de haveres nascido,
te vistes banido pelo imperador.
Por longas estradas que ainda não vias,
sem eira nem beira calado seguias.
No ventre materno escondido rumavas
p'ra onde mandava teu Pai lá do Céu.
Mas eis que em Belém não encontras morada,
Maria cansada não pôde esperar.
E assim Tu nascestes mirando as estrelas,
no ventre da terra e distante do lar.
A Tua pobreza escondia um segredo,
e naquele palácio o patrão teve medo.
E diz que um rei paranóico e doente,
num gesto demente mando te matar.
Mas eis que José pressuroso e aflito,
se exila no Egito p'ra te proteger.
E assim foi que ainda pequeno e calado,
te viste exilado p'ra sobreviver.
Voltaste do exílio para Galiléia,
que o filho do rei governava a Judéia.
Na carpintaria da casa de aldeia,
não representavas perigo nenhum.
José e Maria te viram crescendo,
e era alí um por todos e todos por um.
Mas eis que o fiel carpinteiro morria,
levaste Maria p'ra Carfanaum.
A vida era dura, passavam os dias,
o tempo chegara e de casa partias.
Alguem perguntou de que em lado moravas,
disseste em resposta o que dizem milhões.
"Se queres saber o caminho que eu traço,
acompanha meu traço, vem ver e sentir.
As aves do céu e as raposas tem casa,
mas eu nem sequer tenho aonde dormir."
Eu olhos os milagres de arquitetura,
colossos enormes rasgando as alturas.
E penso no povo que sofre e padece
por falta de teto de amor e de pão.
E leio o decreto que o tira do teto
porque não pagou seu patrão e credor.
E tu que já foste pisado e esmagado,
exilado e humilhado. Liberta teu povo, liberta Senhor.
E tu que já foste pisado e esmagado,
exilado e humilhado. Liberta teu povo, liberta Senhor.
No Roof, No Edge
José worked in the carpentry,
caring lovingly for his Maria.
Maria waited for her time to come,
in her womb, she carried her child and Lord.
But then a decree ripped them from their home,
which witnessed the purest love.
And so it was that before you were born,
you found yourself banished by the emperor.
Through long roads that you couldn't yet see,
with no roof, no edge, you quietly followed.
In your mother's womb, you were hidden, heading
to where your Father in Heaven commanded.
But in Bethlehem, you found no place to stay,
Maria, tired, couldn't wait.
And so you were born, gazing at the stars,
in the womb of the earth, far from home.
Your poverty hid a secret,
and in that palace, the boss was scared.
They say a paranoid and sick king,
in a mad gesture, ordered you killed.
But then José, hurried and distressed,
fled to Egypt to protect you.
And so it was that still small and quiet,
you found yourself exiled to survive.
You returned from exile to Galilee,
where the king's son ruled Judea.
In the carpentry of the village house,
you posed no danger at all.
José and Maria saw you growing,
and there it was one for all and all for one.
But then the faithful carpenter died,
you took Maria to Capernaum.
Life was hard, the days went by,
the time had come, and you were leaving home.
Someone asked where you lived,
you answered what millions say.
"If you want to know the path I take,
follow my trail, come see and feel.
The birds of the sky and the foxes have homes,
but I don't even have a place to sleep."
I see the miracles of architecture,
enormous colossi tearing through the heights.
And I think of the people who suffer and endure
for lack of a roof, love, and bread.
And I read the decree that takes them from their roof
because they didn't pay their boss and creditor.
And you who have been trampled and crushed,
exiled and humiliated. Free your people, free Lord.
And you who have been trampled and crushed,
exiled and humiliated. Free your people, free Lord.