Falling in a bottomless hole
devoid of hope and light.
Reaching out for someone's hand,
wishing for a hero's might.
As you reach, you try to scream.
No one hears you cry.
The hole just swallows you further.
You know you'd rather die.
At once, your eyes are blinded
and someone grabs your hand.
Through the light you almost see
a crucifixed, thorn-crowned man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love it, simple but stonge, great work Jesse!