The weazened old woman without teeth
who shivers on the windy street corner
displays her roasted chestnuts invitingly
like marriageable daughters.
_Calle Atocha_
XVI
NOCHEBUENA
The clattering streets are bright with booths
lighted by balancing candleflames
ranged with figures in painted clay,
Virgins adoring and haloed bambinos,
St. Joseph at his joiner's bench
Judean shepherds and their sheep
camels of the Eastern kings.
_Esta noche es noche buena
nadie piensa a dormir._
The streets resound with dancing
and chortle of tambourines,
strong rhythm of dancing
drumming of tambourines.
Flicker through the greenish lamplight
of the clattering cobbled streets
flushed faces of men
women in mantillas
children with dark wide eyes,
teeth flashing as they sing:
_La santa Virgen es en parto
a las dos va desparir.
Esta noche es noche buena
nadie piensa a dormir._
Beetred faces of women
whose black mantillas have slipped
from their sleek and gleaming hair,
streaming faces of men.
With click of heels on the pavingstones
boys in tunics are dancing
eyes under long black lashes
flash as they dance to the drum
of tambourines beaten with elbow and palm.
A flock of girls comes running
squealing down the street.
Boys and girls are dancing
flushed and dripping dancing
to the beat on drums and piping
on flutes and jiggle
of the long notes of accordions
and the wild tune swirls and sweeps
along the frosty streets,
leaps above the dark stone houses
out among the crackling stars.
_Esta noche es noche buena
nadie piensa a dormir._
In the street a ragged boy
too poor to own a tambourine
slips off his shoes and beats them together
to the drunken reeling time,
dances on his naked feet.
_Esta noche es noche buena
nadie piensa a dormir._
_Madrid_