Why should I spend my nights within a cozy bed,
a clean, soft pillow beneath my sleeping head?
Why should I have food sufficient for each day, food to eat,
food to share, even some to throw away?
Why should I have funds to meet each need I know;
some to save for a rainy day and some to even blow?
Why do I yet have strength that keeps me on my feet,
a mind to know and a will to go and pleasures that are sweet?
Why should I live where there is peace and love,
no sounds of weapons firing, no bombs from planes above?
Why me, Lord, why me?
Now Lord, if comes the day, when I’ve no place to rest.
When all food is gone and I’ve no treasure chest.
When my strength has passed and my body’s wracked with pain,
when my memory is failing, and few pleasures yet remain.
If comes the curse of warfare in the place where I then live,
Help me to remember the blessings you now give.
So that in the darkest hours, my heart may thankful be,
and may I then have the grace to say, “Lord, Why not me? ”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem