The earth look so good
As dead to-be rush to live;
The sick all in file rejoice
As they glow in recuperation.
5 White-coated professionals distributes joy
As of Christmas gift by Santa;
Boundless happiness they brings
For p'ple to weep for joy.
Thousands of whited medicine men have I seen
10 A lucent cherubim among 'em stand;
A coolheaded fellow of doubtless vote
Executing her job with staunch stand.
With a sigh I did cry out
O heavens! Make her invulnerable.
15 For she's but a gift;
Not lilliputian to the tree of mortality.
When weariness overwhelmed me,
And after God I called,
She in her garment appears
20 with soothing voice she iced my heart
There rubbing my heart with liniment,
What a great succor it is!
Though she's but a practitioner,
Her future I saw bright
25 As she make a rescue
Of souls traveling abroad...
On a journey of no return.
Never have I see her using vituperations
But rather to supply illnesses
With suiting solutions.
30 Her visage show it all
That she's a wellspring of life,
A God's sent to resuscitate life.
Heavens! Give her a chance
For she'll make mortality shrink to dance.
35 Let her with holy glance
Lessen the existence of visitant
Emerging from the depth of mortality.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem