The sun lights came to chase
Now that were hung on the cross
At the roof-top of the church
So high is the spire,
Going up there how I can aspire.
‘Cause cannot hear the bell's ring
So I'm whistling or hovering
If the cross will be
Permitted to me,
Like Jesus Christ, he
Was happy, but he had been felt it painfully,
Hanging down my neck like on the thorn choker,
The blooming blood, like the flower,
Under the darkening sky,
I am bleeding in calmly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem