I'm walking the road of the Earth - so close to the edge.
I see the sky above the head - low, low.
clouds draw their hands to me - to embrace,
I'm - the favorite daughter of Our Father - and I'm holy!
I am calm if death to me suddenly will approach -
Because the earth's flesh is arranged so.
It may take the death of my body but not the soul:
I will hear these words: 'Come to the feast, daughter'.
I believe it will happen with me, Our righteous God,
As a stranger that goes home - I am so weary...
Help me to go forward, closer to the sky
I believe I'll see the Holy Image of Jesus there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely and inspirational poem, Liza