When each rival in a contest or combat
Brings Thee offerings pleasing and perfect
And bows down before Thee ardently devout
Trusting in Thy solicitude, power and glory infinite
With an abiding trust, neat and immaculate
Whose wish for victory would Thou grant O'Lord?
Thou art indulgent, compassionate, Love incarnate
Won't Thou find Thyself in a dilemma dense, O'Lord
Particularly, if they are peers in excellence in every aspect?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem