With dust and spittle you muddied your hands
and formed a heart with the clay of my soul.
You gave me an essence that understands,
that all that I do is under control.
You are the potter and I am the clay.
You gave me an image likened to yours,
I danced on your wheel in solemn ballet,
assuming a likeness that your heart adores.
So in your image, I now turn the wheel,
for I am the potter, you made me this way.
You gave me freewill and passion to feel,
I’ll do my best Lord, please help me I pray.
Don’t leave me alone Lord, guide me along,
give me the strength Lord, to keep going strong.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem