MY HEAVENLY FATHER.
MY CROPS HAVE ALL GROWN.
ITS TIME FOR THE HARVEST,
its time to go home.
MY HEAVENLY FATHER.
MY HEARTS TORN IN TWO.
BY THE WORLD THAT I LIVE IN,
and the wors peaple chose.
MY HEAVENLY FATHER.
THIERS BEATY I SEE,
but just like the sunsets, it fades as i sleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
IROGUIS PEAPLE, these guys are a group or tribe that thought that if their children turn out retarded, then it was a gift from above.