Look at the devotees
See how they shine
But I am down on my knees
As separation from them makes me whine
My feet are sore
But I shall walk more
To be at the core
Of the moment when they roar
I will fly with broken wings
Till I shall hear the song he sings
If not, I shall cry with sorrow
Till my tears will create the greatest furrow
I love you
What else can I say?
My heart of clay
Feels so blue
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem