I do not merely want to know if my word calls out
I want to know to whom it calls
Let the worth of thine apostles be the measure of thy works.
I do not know who I belong to
I scarcely know who I am
I only know the voice that I chase
It puts its claws into that to which it belongs
I follow, somehow
always two steps behind.
Turn your face to God
and wait for clouds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem