A son of noble parents rich
Of Portuguese lineage
His Baptism name Ferdinand
Grew up fifteen of age
He never cared for lucre
He renounced worldly things
To follow Christ seemed greater
‘The Lord and King of Kings! ’
He loved the habit friars wore
Of St, Assisi clan
So, left the Augustinian door
To be a hermit man
He read the Holy Scriptures well
And preached and taught, they tell
His memory was indeed swell
Although he had turned ill!
The Lord gave him the gift of the gab
To Anthony, now named
His erudite speeches would stab
heretic’s hearts unashamed
He worked miracles so often
He found lost things quickly
He sermonised to fish even
Although he had ‘dropsy’!
He loved the poor brethren so much
He taunted crime doers
With hands of miracle a touch
He made them church goers!
His love of Jesus was too great
He loved a martyr’s fate
Poison didn’t work when he ate
His life was clean a slate
And when he died, most children cried
‘The Holy father’s dead! ’
All on their own, most church bells tolled
In Padua, people said
The hermit was made saint too soon
A year after his death
His earthly life was all a boon,
Until his very last, breath!
They say that baby Jesus came
And climbed upon his hand
He had a stick with live lilies
An icon of the land!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice a journey through the past, a warm tribute and the loveliest feelings of heart which touches the human mind to take a birth again. Nice. Regards, pranab