Our language is so incomplete
if to send a message from the sky.
but heart feels: the hour is fulfilled.
and you have to turn to Holy Bible.
To the prophets and to their prayers,
Look at our sores and wounds.
This would serve us a very good lesson,
will detect our errors and shortcomings.
People who forgot about the Lord,
Lost their human image, human form.
Go back, and fall at His saint feet,
The Creator to response is quick.
When prodigal son returned at home,
then the Father, though stern, - rejoiced.
After all, God did not turn away.
So return until it is too late!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a poem of HOPE, the hope which makes promises that will be fulfilled, that's the guarantee. But as you know it must be asserted again and again because hope in the modern world is so hard to sustain. We must withdraw from the news of the world to restore hope, then go back into the world with that restored hope.Language is truly incomplete, poetry can close some of the gap with its leaps of meaning.