There is a light that falls through
the stained glass windows,
a tranquillity that reminds you
that you are in a holy place
golden letters on the pulpit blaze:
"God is love"
the sound of the pipe-organ bubbles up,
there is a old woman praying without words
where thought-struck I sit in a back bench
and outside there is a plant
of which the branches move in the wind
while I am trying to find acquiescence
a newspaper boy shouts outside:
"in Iraq bombs do fall like rain, "
cars and motorbikes rush pass
where for a time
we are in a different world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem