Dear Mr. Resident,
How do you feel
When you walk the street?
Talk as masses weep?
Do you pray for them before you sleep?
How do you sleep?
When many weep?
When you ride your jeep,
Do you feel the deep?
Do you know the pain?
Of the masses in the blood-rain?
O come the Mighty-rain!
O wash away the pain!
O usher in the gain!
though trouble blows,
God knows
though trouble nears
He sees
He will show Himself strong
He will mend what all wrong
He will not just stare
at the snares because He cares...
He is the first.
He is the last.
T’s true;
“...Weeping may last
for the night,
but
a shout of joy
comes in the morning…”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem