Certain death awaits a newborn,
alone on a basement floor.
Softly foot steps fades in the distance,
at the closing of the basement door. Winter's raging just beyond the walls,
a wind ' chill that staggers the Soul.
Shattered windows give no protection,
yet the newborn feels no cold! Little eyes staring at a sight unseen.
It's the brightness of a Golden Rod!
This staff of life warms the newborn,
as he is cradled in the arms of God!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem