I have from cradle heard
of a place so grand
where, with no desire to return,
the heathen gravitate,
when the toil here's over and done with.
A place of immortality.
I have, in my imaginations, caught
glimpses of a clime so inexplicable,
where all is but day,
yet brighter than sun,
moon and stars put together.
A place of eternal splendor.
I have, from books read
of a vast treasury of gold,
built not with hands or craft,
yet ever so artistic and fine.
A place we're bound to go,
an eldorado for all.
I have, with my mouth, made known
a snow-white paradise,
where in rapturous lift, the saint ascend
with so mighty an orchestra of angels
getting going for a kingly banquet.
A place of limitless merrying.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem