One day You ask: What are you up to?
- I work for lattices
And concoct doors for lamps.
The door to heaven will be split,
My doors shall turn into gates
Encircling my heaven of Old.
Radiation picks up from Hell,
Heaven closes its gates,
And my doors open and shut
To let Me only enter
My heaven and Paradise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem