Again shall the yearnings begin
For your blurred grace or disgrace
Now our deeds are a sin
We beg for a new face
Our crossover be joyful and gentle
As every breath we breathe through
Our mercies be no little
Our years longer too
Where our health torments
We pray thee to help find its comfort
On our behalf shall prosperity seek your consent
Which we pray, thou shall not distort
But neither the destiny we see
Nor the fate we fear
We just hope on our knee
Our discretion shall thou hear
Of course we fear thy cold winds
Thy little grace will make us bear enough
And all thy foretold stings
Shan’t initiate even a cough
At the end, see us above the sky
Ready for another shoot
By grace shall it not be another try
But a winning hoot
(30/12/2008)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem