Scratching and banging around, digging for artifacts
and relics from past saints, gone now from earth.
Wanting help and protection from unnecessary
projections of hell, not getting any as yet.
Climbing depths, trying to escape this feckless life
of turmoil and still wanting to continue into the
future with however much of it I have left.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem