Tormented in Hell—who can tell
Of anguish sinners know so well
Smoldering souls, tortured of mind,
My Lord: be forgiving and kind.
Whole bodies on fire—seized your word
In corners where nobody heard
Good News preached to those left behind,
My Lord: be forgiving and kind.
Pain wheedled tears—a heavy eye
Twists soft hearts drenched to dry
Unreasonable, spoiled, and blind,
My Lord: be forgiving and kind.
Uncomfortable—unexpected,
Vacant—emotionally dead;
Pitch pitiful thoughts toward mankind,
My Lord: be forgiving and kind.
I pound upon my swollen chest,
Thrust my arms over all the rest,
Beseech blessings that loop and bind,
My Lord: be forgiving and kind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem