My love is far away, on the country of stations,
These nations are exact, loathing a few lovers.
My losing brand new weapon is like a lovely
Sort of path into the reaches of the universe;
I call it divine action, a real result from adored ones
Who are spoilt by each other’s love.
These individuals strive and cry openly,
Their milk is drank by some, and amid concerns,
Fulfill a requirement for heavenly glory,
This separate glory I call with God.
My loves are many to do with God
And he may be far away, like a god can be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.