So, here I stand,
my God,
unclean before you,
ready to
enter the purgatory
of my own shower.
All waters, hot
have vanished,
though apparently
did purify
five flesh and blood,
who got there,
in succession,
and first.
Now shivering under
the cruel challenge
of temperature, so inhumane,
I ask you, my Creator,
Sire, will this DO?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Herbert, so true, so true, cleanliness tis close to Godliness...I loved this one too. Theodora Onken