I confess, my Lord,
I'm no more of a believer than anyone else.
My sorrow is just like other sorrows, an endless journey to the unknown,
As is happiness; an invisible icon of life,
As is loneliness; the greatest monument to humility,
As are other emotions; invisible to the eye,
But so very visible to the human soul;
Oh, dear Lord, give me the strength to face the man in the mirror,
Like other dreamers; please be my fellow sufferer and traveller
On the road of dreams,
Like other sinners; please keep my soul from transgression;
Like all those in love; please put me in the dreams
Of this silent, dreamy, magnificent night,
Like all people; I call out to You when it becomes tough -
My soul is in Your hands.
I confess, My lord:
During these Christmas holidays my heart and soul
Open for all the people in the world,
Like the souls of all dreamers; for good people and bad people,
Like the hearts of all good-will people; for poor people and rich people;
Like the boys in our orphanage; for every human being
To be warmed up by the fire of love.
In this starry, magnificent Christmas night,
Many a turquoise ray shall touch many a heart.
I wonder, oh Lord:
Will the doors of the heart open for the orphanage boy? ...
And the poor abandoned boy,
His heart open for the entire world,
Used to sing with passion and expression through many a lonely night;
„Now, in the midst of winter, without a coat or family,
I wander from window to window...
From one happy family's door to another...
Dear people, if you only knew how cold it is
To be alone in such a holy silent night...
My song is my coat, and angels are my family,
I have no father, no mother, to have a sister is a mere wish -
Oh, me, an abandoned boy, sadly wandering around! "
Oh, dear Lord, I confess:
It was only yesterday when I was a flagbearer for hope,
And today... today I'm but an aged servant of the feather,
Like a weather vane on top of the world,
Showing the world
Whither the chilly wind blows,
My previously rebellious passion is still ablaze,
Like a candle in an old missionary's trembling hand, still showing the way:
From the badlands of the soul to the magnificent lovers' fountains,
From white solitary mountain peaks to green flowering valleys,
From cold winter nights to bright spring mornings,
From dark abandoned streets to endless horizons of love,
From heart to heart,
So that my own lonely heart
Finds the safe harbour of a loving heart,
For better or worse,
Like the heart of boys from many an orphanage.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem