My spirit soars up in heaven
To touch the spirit of God;
But touching reveals to me
The impurities of my soul!
My spirit withers as it moves
From shattered being
To an awakening...
But remembers only the nightmare!
Now drifting...as it exists...
Yet not existing.
For I am dying of an unquenchable thirst
In filling a void self...
Wash me with His blood!
Let me drink from His cup!
Then I can soar up again
To being one with God!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem