"No luck! No luck for me! I swing
on high tonight! " The Blind Man
cried bitter tears as he tugged the
make-believe rope around his neck.
And then, to his surprise, he saw the
bright light in the sky, and also
there, inside his head.
He dropped to his knees and this
time he sobbed. A simple prayer,
with lips and heart he made. The air
stayed still as he heard a voice
address him so full of gentle grace.
"Blind Man be wary about luck. We
all have a need to fulfill. And you
have found some comfort in this
lonely place, and the sad heap of
skulls on yonder hill."
"Be a wise owl, go tell your friends
to meet me on the road to Damascus
or beyond where the special tale of
me is told.
"Think and remember how a little
lighted match can set a field of hay
on fire, such is the power for good,
I tell you. Now go in peace and
prepare to see dreams the world has
never seen. And know your fate is
to see what you must see."
And the Blind Man stood up and
looked around. His face shining as
bright as any star, to see the gift
of the sunset in the desert, and the
sight of many friends still down on
bended knee, praying to the kind
God who had only let him see!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem