Albert Boima Biography

How worthless is he who paves violence:
Is not he who bewilders the land of peace?
With his thoughts, moulding it to corrupt the people;
In the interest of satisfying himself.
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I think of another
Let my heart surrender
With pleasure under
To give and render
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What if He appears
As the trumpet cheers
With a train of angels
When judgment labels;
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When I see your fantasy,
My heart is filled with ecstasy;
Roses my eyes do see.
When I set them to lie,
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O how have I suffered such great graves!
I have been pierced by the swords of my kings
Injected with the liquid of their corruptions
They have rescinded my harmonious names
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