A pious man brings a gift for the lame one,
It is a rosary with thousands of beads;
His tortures do never seize him,
For he prays so acceptably in the eyes of His Lord.
Guide him, the lame one needs guidance
For he is a sick person with absolute health
In the body and mind as well.
He bleeds tonight from your inflicted wound
As he became a thief of the night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem