Pastor has fallen
Six feet above and tumbled to the hard-capped ground
And he screamed loud like he was going to die.
How do you apologize to a man when you have killed his beloved child
And say that Mary snatched him from your hand
For she wanted to punish you for the iniquity passed down
By the dark deeds of your father?
So I took the first train to a far away place
Where I set and asked for Mary to pardon the child
For I refuse to have his corpse on my conscience.
I hate to be a murderer
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem