40 days and 40 nights,
Homeless sleeping in the wild,
40 months, nay 40 years,
Tempted yes and most defiled.
Rainstorms wet them all the day,
Frost and ice their nighttimes cool,
Cats and dogs around them play,
Parks their refuge, trunks their stool.
Come their resignation all to see,
Hot soup bring, their stomachs inflame,
And with them pray they strong may be,
Conquering all adversity.
Then if evils from their head,
Flesh or spirit do assail,
Victors on the park bench bed,
May they never faint or fail!
So shall peace divine be theirs, ’
Holier gladness theirs’ shall be,
Come to them angelic powers,
Such as ministered to thee.
©2009
James Hart
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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