I want to pray, but are at times without words
and it feels as if none of my prayers
are going much further than the ceiling,
as if I am alone extradited on this earth
and in this chilly time, it feels as if all my prayers,
all my words are going nowhere.
There is so many times that the self
wants to take control of my life
and in the lives of others,
where the self wants to draw attention to it.
I ask You to help me to stay modest,
to stretch Your hand out wide over my country
covering each and everyone with Your selfless love,
make us free from the self.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem