The Potter makes each pot so uniquely;
But all are made from earthly clay alike;
He loves each pot He makes with love divine;
He cares for everyone in ways unknown.
Yet, some deformed get due to causes rife;
Some cracks develop like hairline fractures too;
A few get holes and cannot hold so well;
Some broken prematurely deny their role!
The Potter made each pot with equal care;
He can't discriminate or favor one.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem