Above, the sky, the misty rain cloud crawl
silently gliding the heaven's fluffy surface
gathering with her the beauties of the high heavens
she called to me ''would you like a row''
A row? indeed a row across the rain cloud
to the palacial abode of the One Holy One
sinking through the silvery fibric cotton up so high
to the seat where Mercy pleads for the little little mercies
Where there exists no pain, no sorrow, no fear
cloudless land of blue skies and sunshine
no lords, no masters, just kings of equal ranks
a peaceful world across the rain cloud
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.