I am not a stranger
Each blade of grass is mine;
The high hills can't hem in me
Here I am born to grow and shine.
The earth and the sky
Are known to me so close;
My soul gets polished in the
Sunray and I am not made to lose.
The trees know me
And I am a friend of birds;
The flowers open up to greet me
And winning games for me is not hard.
The rivers flow for me
They sing and wash my feet;
I fly high to be with the clouds
Beyond that to my Lord I will meet
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem