Each of my forefathers stood their man
and in the evening with a Bible they sat around a table,
from the dark early hours they did already farm
and they stayed trusting the heavenly Father.
Now I do wonder where everything is going
while I dig in my own small garden,
while with sunny eyes my wife watches me
and wavering I do try and cling to the hand of God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem