Let your light shine, a trembling flame,
Not for glory, not for fame—
But softly through the velvet night,
A witness to your inner sight.
The stars, they glimmer far and cold,
Yet humbly serve as they were told,
No trumpet blares, no banner flies,
Still, their glow redeems the skies.
Oh, simple lamp in my window frame,
Not seeking praise, nor calling name,
Its glow spills warmth upon the street,
Where weary hearts the humble meet.
So let your deeds, be pure and bright,
Kindle love where the blind have sight.
Not for pride or polished gold,
But to touch and heal, to soothe there pain.
Thus they will see, and lift their eyes,
And praise his son that never died.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem