If You can imagine a blind woman
Knitting, in total darkness, a woollen
Jumper then the wool you see is me.
If you can imagine a benevolent angel
Hand knitting a child's dream, as the child
Dreams, you see the pattern and me.
If you see an altar and a lamb being led
To the slaughter, the space between the sacrifice
And the slaughterer is me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderful imagination... The pulpit of heart is everytime adorned with reddish carpet of blood, preaching us to love the mankind...nice poem...