They called me Poor John
I came here long ago
And lived among the streets
I ate scraps and crumbs
And things suchlike
The earth swallowed my tears
It was a lonely life.
But the birds sang to me
And at night the angels
Folded me in their wings
When I died they buried me in a field
And the grass mourned over me
Christ took me home
To my hut in the sky
And now
We are very glad
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem