At the entrance to God's garden
the gates are made of gold,
and as I open them to enter
such peace and love unfold.
His garden is a picture
all neatly paved in white,
encircled by pink roses
and greenery of delight.
A Holy statue stands there,
upon the pebbled way...
the image of an angel
whose head bows low to pray.
I dream of this beautiful garden
just as I'm dreaming tonight
a retreat from life's humdrum reality
a retreat to a 'vision of light'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem