There is something to need,
Someone to hope for, who is need.
Thanks go to places of worship
To contain the flowers of ignorance.
I worship because it is necessary,
Tomorrow the worshippers are my brothers
Of old. The state of their mind erects comfort,
Cosy nature is within me, when you craft your job.
Let worshippers lead other fellows,
The same old religion will do, but then what is comfort?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem