My hands are hard
But they're where you belong.
Look at me baby,
I know you can see,
Love is where the breeze warms you.
Your breeze warms me.
Lay in the protection of my hands hard calused,
In the love in my sad eyes.
Look to the love of God's sweet grave;
And depend on the love you see on my face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem