If your love has not yet forsaken me, and your goodness still lingers in all my soul;
Deliver me from these earthly woes, this undying grief...
Dear Lord, these barefooted men with rags on their rocky backs
These barefooted men with cracks in their hands.
Instead, take me to where the sea is calm,
where grass will grow...
Water moves slow
and grass will grow
Where no lies are woven into the twighlight wind, water moves slow and the bees are nice,
Lemonly sweet moves across our feet.
Our dear Lord, if by chance (your devine grace) ,
Our tarnished souls are still written in your book of love and life and love;
Let these enemies not laugh at me with stained goblins teeth,
Let these walls not crowd me, never let these walls crowd me,
Or let trees befriend me, rocks gather a bed for me, a deep voice to sing to me n devils lie to me.
Instead, take me to where the wind is right
The sea is camn
N grass will grow
My weary soul will ease
Water moves slow,
and that grass will grow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem