When I sink into a tenebrous quagmire,
It is he who pulls me out.
When I stand forlorn and no one turns,
It is he who answers my shout.
When the sunshine becomes the night sky,
It is he who becomes my guiding light.
When I've lost every war and there is no hope,
It is he who becomes my might.
When I'm left to shiver in the cold,
His arms welcomingly caress me.
And both my good and my bad he embraces,
It is he and only he.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem