Lord....
I don't know why the storms arise
I am not sure why the ship is tossed
I just can't comprehend why I feel lonley
I don't know why I don't see the sun behind the cloud
I don't know why I don't listen to the cuckoo on the tree
I find it hard to enjoy the merry pranks of the little squirrel
At times I wonder why my feet staggers and knees tremble
I don't know why circumstances twist and turn so as to dishearten
But whatever be the reasons
Let me always remember that you are the Potter
And I am the clay to be moulded into the right shape
at the right time.......
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem