I paint a picture of my life
much like a budding flower
with paint and words strewn on the day
to mark each step and every hour
Sometimes the colors are so bright
so full of light and joy
at other times so dark and grim
they threaten to destroy
Who then can fathom the unknown
a puzzling paradox
for often smooth and gentle streams
crash swiftly onto rocks
Sometimes my paintbrush loses strength
sometimes my words are few
sometimes it's hard to simply walk
and take a step or two
Oh, may my Maker give me strength
to strew the little marks
upon the road marked for my days
and kindle loving sparks
I paint a picture of my life
much like a budding flower
with paint and words strewn on th.e day
to mark each step and every hour.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem