God’s promise of “The Rapture”
The human mind doth capture
Brethren!
Have not fear, nor apprehension
You’ve but die, to gain ascension
For some souls;
Spirits’ rise when trumpets sound
Fully conscious, of their bodies shed
Grateful, for “God’s Gift” profound;
Spared from grave these walking dead
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem