I remember that convent of women once upon a time, I think it was in Rio de Janeiro,

And those fervent voices chanting and reciting the credo almost quite low.

And that made me think of the desert, of the night of Bethlehem, in its enormous black veil,

With that cassocked group of shepherds who ask each other and tell each other many a tale;

One questions, the other answers, the young one lets the elder speak, he does not tire.

There is sometimes a moment of silence, it’s time to put wood in the fire.

Thus the degree of our salvation and that road leading to heaven’s throne

Are told us humbly in a confidential tone.