Put up your hands the robber said
as he pulled the old lady out of her bed,
Where's your money? and your gold, you have a lot I am told,
Take the lot, here's my rings after all they are only! things,
Please don't hurt me, I'm very frail yes, '
said the robber your looking pale.'
keep your rings I an sorry I came,
sorry I coursed you such sorry and pain.'
Send for the police, I will give myself in,
after all I've committed a sin, '
! No said the woman, go on your way,
Just promise me this, that you will pray,
and ask god to forgive you,
For what you have done,
and I will pray for you my son.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem