In that year, Dom Pablo, proco of Saint Maria of the High one, invented a competition of Prespios. The city, well of the truth, is little more than one vilarejo, empoleirado in one of first hills to the shade of the Mountain range of the Mantiqueira; The competition of prespios was launched in August; ample, flexible, without many rules. Soon an impulse in the local commerce was felt; the ribbon sales and income had increased, the children left to the moss search; obsolete electric materials leave the dusty shelves. During weeks, the creativity was not said of another thing boiled. The great day arrived after all. The commission it examined each one of the prespios to emit one to seem. Difficult to compare them, impossible to classify them: One, all illuminated, with luzinhas blinking and shining; another one, with the hut covered for finssimas golden blades, one third, with as many figures in movement. Another one still, covered for a sky of blue paper, with a thousand estrelinhas illuminated A prespio, in principle, is well simple: it must only reproduce the place where everything it happened: an irregular and inhospitable hill, with rare tufos of gram of long connecting rods, one old shelter of abandoned, half goats destroyed.
In the deep one of it, under the ceiling in ruins, a coarse manger, with a hay beam. An old ox and arisco burrico. It is alone. She is all poor person, sad, dark. Safe Maria in the col the just-been born one. Jose looks at, astonished, the miracle. There it are, only the brightness of the moon and the few pale stars.
He is cold. Everything is silence, contemplation. It is in this esqulido scene that the king Dos Reis, the owner of the universe, the powerful son of God, comes to the world, as more humble between humble, the poor one between the poor persons.