Tell me, mother, more about Jesus.
Did he cry as a child?
Did you ever have to swat him?
And what did his father Joseph tell him before his death?
Ah, you have seen many die, mother,
but you have seen one raised to life!
Did he build you a house,
after his father's death?
One to live in and have your children visit?
Ah, and he is building you a house even now!
He said so, and perhaps soon you will get to see it;
to live in the house your son built must be a joy
inexpressible, and full of glory.
Do you remember the feast?
The first sign, done in his generosity -
for he is generous, even now -
and how fine a feast, how glad our hearts,
how the bride and groom delighted in each other and the wine.
Your eyes are dim now mother,
but not so dim as when your boys
brought you to entreat him home as a madman-
they know better now! -
and not so dim as I saw them
on that hill where he died.
Ah, mother, you are fading from this life!
You have lived between the times,
between the nations and the ages,
and have seen both earth and heaven opened up!
I may tarry here a little longer,
I have much to write, if they do not find me out,
but I will be with you soon, no doubt.
I pray for you mother, in your age and sickness.
And so does your son.
Sleep well, mother Mary. Good night.