As I look around me
in our world today,
I see signs of hell.
As faith flickers out,
hell's despair spreads.
What I see is
a waste land
of despair.
People clamoring
for possessions;
power and position;
passions inflamed
and so much
violence and anger.
Underneath it all,
there is a pervasive
hopelessness
fueling it all.
It is often said
that being
possessed is rare.
I am not sure
that is true.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem