What a joy to move to the other world – poetry

Cross on the sands – a poem by Hanna Chrzanowska

I do not know how much, my God,

You’re still prepering me time.

Maybe I will not go to the forest,

to the pine forest.

Maybe they will not come to me

Sky-tone bells?

I will not finish this prayer,

I will not see the sun on earth,

Because today’s rain can

Will he have no end to me?

Or maybe you’re still prepering for me

Years long, long ranks,

My hair is used for my hair

Whiteness as the first snow?

Prayer of your Son

“let your will be done”

Do not be scared that in me, Lord,

A silent pleading request:

Do not let the hand of death fade

The sharpness of my gaze,

Let me look with joy

In playing your spaces:

Let me not cry while dying

Hardened human pain,

That I will never see again

How to laugh is laughing green!

Praise be on your rainbow

And among the smell of lupine

The size of your sound,

A chorus of birds and seraphim!