The stars above benevolently shine in heaven
But still fail to make a believer out of a heathen
And yet when you smile, 'ts plain
Your godly smile vanishes my sorrows and pain
I am much worse than a heathen
With many a bad agenda in my heart secretly hidden
Yet when you smile, 'ts plain
You can make me a believer again!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem