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the virgin is combing her hair |
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between curtain and curtain |
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the hair is golden |
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and the fine silver comb. |
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but look how the fish drink in the river |
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but look how they drink to see the born god |
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they drink and drink and drink again |
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the fish in the river to see god be born. |
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the virgin is washing |
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and tending in rosemary |
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the little birds singing |
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and rosemary blooming. |
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|
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but look how the fish drink in the river |
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but look how they drink to see the born god |
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they drink and drink and drink again |
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fish in the river to see god born. |
|
|
|
the virgin is combing her hair |
|
between curtain and curtain |
|
the hair is golden |
|
and the fine silver comb. |
|
|
|
but look how the fish drink in the river |
|
but look how they drink to see the born god |
|
they drink and they drink and they drink again |
|
the fish in the river to see god be born. |