When he was a youth
He'd go upstairs
two steps at a time
and come downstairs
four steps at a time.
But now he breathes hard
to climb the stairs and hills.
God has made us to live
in whatever way we like
or a brief time bowing heads
man made laws of reason
or to the changeless flaws of religion.
The hands that taking holy books
are a few and the hands wielding
killing weapons are a lot.
The world loosens its grip
on the common human moral codes
and the peace shelters in a small abode.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem