The angels and Saints watch over
And I,
always ask, 'Whereto I go? '
Eyes pop on the walls like demons etched,
barred
stupidly stuck
I continue to pray
earnestly settled
Like any kind of saint or a child
'Help me,
dear Father
You are my fortress and my joy! '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An excellent prayer and beautifully crafted too. Thanks for sharing.10 points.