My knees feel the impact of my mission,
Like the mantis';
Supplicating to Divinity.
Denial has been imposed on my enticing couch,
As of a night owl;
Supplicating to Divinity.
Sumptuous meals I deprive my stomach,
Like the anorexic.
All my alter egos have I deserted
As the day deserts night and vice verse,
For sincere supplication to Divinity.
My eyes watered incessantly,
Like an ice;
Just for profound supplication to this Divinity.
The needy I ministered to,
As the hand does to the mouth;
In response from Divinity.
I never owe the former,
Like the dead never does to death.
I want to see him face to face,
But it's face to rear.
A glance from him will even do
,
But it's bereaved.
I supplicated for more hands for Penning,
Perhaps two more.
I seem to have gained admission to DDC.
The more the supplication, the more the deafness.
My voice could have ached him.
Could my vices be operating?
Could my supplications be heard unnoticed?
Could my asking be whopping,
Or am I established already?
From DDC, expulsion I beckon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem