As I mount on, on a chair of golden honey
I hear a preacher, his voice like a fiest of jolly
I see angels all around the temple
So one comes, and pours me on a wrestle
The invokeness from men I hear them cry
How I regret the days I lied
I walk through the red carpet, strides of struggle
I get close to the alter like a man in his tugle,
I see a man with grey glazing suit
my sound is placed on mute
I hear the lords clear audibles voice, 'child of mine'
' wont you come and drink from my wine, '
So dominated by the lords overshadowings presence
I coudnt even say a sentence
what i feel I cant describe
lord dont you let me be a scribe
As I leave made a whole man
This can say iam a man
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem