To you glory, radiant Son of virginity.
This, the month that is forever filled with blessings:
slaves have freedom, free men glory,
doors have crownings, bodies feastings,
violet garments thrown with love as unto princes.
This, the month that will forever carry vict’ry:
freed is spirit, flesh is tempered,
mortal woman bears the Living:
Godhead now is reconciled with human nature.
This, the month when slaves recline upon fine beddings,
and the free recline on carpets,
kings themselves asleep on matting:
in a manger sleeps the Lord of all, for all’s sake.
This is (I think correctly) attributed to St. Ephrem, along with many “Madrashe.” It’s from the second Sunday of Subara/Advent, but it works nicely today too.