I dwell beneath a painted sky, not bound by stone or beam,
A house may stand around my steps, yet still I chase a dream.
A landlord with no resting place, yet joy walks at my side,
For Samuel's song lives in my chest - Yaweh's voice is wide.
The stars may burn with ancient fire, their edges sharp with flame,
But I have danced among their light and learned to praise the Name.
Though sorrow taps upon my door, it cannot steal my tune,
The drowning righteous cry - and He replies beneath the moon.
No roof can hold the love I know, no walls can cage my praise,
I walk with fire upon my brow, yet laugh in sacred blaze.
For joy is not the lack of pain, but hope that will not die,
A whisper strong as Samuel's call, that lifts me to the sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem