He answered heard
Patience, I am coming near.
Do you hear the marching of their feet?
So many trapped in thought, will you grow meek?
Inside out the great divide none but I, may hide.
The many secrets of thine brilliant eyes.
Bright light the stars you feel my warmth upon your face,
As I come near you stilled, don't cry.
Don't fear the face of whom he is, then said, I am.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem