I’m a baker
A poor man in a kitchen
A man to fill people
Fill their hearts and their stomachs
I was given lemons
And so I made lemon cake
I was then given grapes
And so I made wine
They gave me wheat
And I made bread
Then I was given something sacred
Something so precious
Something that was broken
Missing several key pieces
For many moons
I couldn’t find what to do
Until I realized it was symmetrical
With my own heart.
The pieces I was missing
Where the pieces that were there in what I held in my hands
I was but a baker
A man to fill the stomachs or all
Fills noses with aromas
And hearts with content with food
But through my determination
My heart was the one to be fulfilled
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem