In the war-torn city, O My dearest one,
I hear a voice,
louder than the gunfire,
louder than the bombs
calling to Me; it is
a man who kneels in prayer
he does not name his nationality,
he does not name his faith,
he does not name Me as his god
how clear his voice is
as he calls to me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem