God looks on me and frowns,
And I never know will know why.
He is always watching me,
From way up in the sky.
His only son has dyed for me,
He must be rolling in his grave.
For my soul never shines,
My soul will never be saved.
So I look up at God,
and down below with contempt.
For my spirit has never wept.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem