God
When...
When will it be...
When will it be my turn
The storm ruined my evening and washed my book into the sea
When will the waters part
When will there be dry ground
Every morning, the wind as it passes
Whispers to me that you are good
Every evening, I watch the sun you made
Go down by a river wearing a T-shirt of dainty colours
I see it's beautiful
God
I'm gentle with the water I drink
I plant a tree beside every road I take
Little children laugh when I tickle their plump cheeks
When I give each one a ride on my shoulders
Peter wrote me back, said he's fine now
He's out of the hospital
We grateful God
And...
God...
when will it be my turn
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice one Sir. Very soon there will be a dawning and your joy will have its freedom from sorrows