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Madonna eyes,
looking down
to the beating heart
held in hands so gentle....
loving, molding, preparing
him for the pathway
to his personal cross....
Madonna tears,
falling warm and wet,
down the face that maps
the destinies of those that suffer....
tears that have names,
known by no other....
nailed one by one till death relieves.
Madonna hope,
wrapped in flesh and longing,
head bowed down,
as if to pray!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem