God's garden is called Paradise,
creation came from there.
He watches it with shining eyes
and marks each crevice where
a pesky weed dare raise its head
he sends a lightning strike
and soon the weeds are truly dead
(which none of them do like) .
One day, the Devil, flying by
gave Him a friendly nod,
and, being brave, he asked Him why
those weeds would bother God.
So, God, who never spoke a lie
said he had found that weeds
were rather clever, even sly
but that their daily deeds
were unacceptable as such
due to their sense of freedom.
And since they didn't pray so much
he really did not need 'em.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem