I am tired of half-truths and your lies
and loosing you burns in my throat and breast,
there now is something strange in your eyes,
the uncertainty will not let me rest.
Only some of your worries I do know,
not of everything fate puts on your track
and now where you want me away to go,
against your will I cannot hold you back.
Lord, I do not know what to You to say
but my dear wife is also Your own child,
You do witness everything on each day,
if possible let her be undefiled
and if she does against me greatly sin,
then let my love with her be counted in.
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem