Pray, pray, pray
On the hunting grounds
For the sad and sweet animals
Falling to the ground
In the sport of bloodlust.
We’ve been here before
Innumerable times,
We keep returning
To pay for our crimes.
For every act of malicious injury and death
A soul must return
For a thousand rebirths
To suffer the fears and pangs
And the heartbreaks of existence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
God counts every sparrow that falls.I believe that He counts deer as well. Lovely write, Uriah, As always, Sandra