Turning and twisting about, noting the colors of earth
in nature, wondering why there are no blue roses for
me to hold.
Must I wait til I get to heaven to see their splendid
beauty of nature? I don't believe I can wait for that
to happen.
Images seen within my mind are generous, replete with
magnificent color and glory, how much more so when I
actually get to heaven to see for myself?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem