I know what you must think
As so restlessly you wait
For my unfaithful drink
From this cup I claim to hate
I know this lust won't stop
This battle's won for you
I savor every drop
Like I swore I'd never do
I know the hope you hide
That my dogma isn't true
For if I nearly died
Then you must be dying too
I know that I'm no nearer
To conjuring perfection
I'm just a dirty mirror
Still blurring His reflection
I know the cup is sweet
And my blood still flows impure
A taste is not defeat
But a call to choose the cure
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem