Let authors, writers, artists fair
Wear cloaks of finest weave
I only want to seek the Lord
And come, come to believe.
Some people ask me who I am
It's no use to pretend
For not a single hat I've worn
Has fit me in the end
I am a distant traveler
Sent down from heaven's layers
Without a cloak without a name
A spirit filled with prayers
Let authors, writers, artists fair
Wear cloaks of finest weave
I seek the garment of the Lord
To come, come to believe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem