A Cross on my forehead, in ash,
reminds me of where I will be;
when the years pass by in a flash,
I'll return to the earth, naturally.
The ways of the world are a veil,
that seek to berate and to hate;
that aim to destroy and assail,
but that too will disintegrate.
And truth will triumph in the end,
in all its pure glory and might;
And we will all learn to transcend,
the grief and the fear of the night.
So, remember, reflect and repent,
for this precious time is Lent...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem