A stream of song goes ahead
Along a path per its desire.
It moves with straight intent, in danger stays erect;
It heeds no prohibition arising from crooked guile.
With painted daybreak on dawn's eastern mountain,[1]
A song the birds start singing in music pleasant.
Returned home to evening's nest, the birds sing again;
To brimming they fill the sky.
With the roar of thunder, You go on singing;
With lightning's guffaw, You make us quake in fear.
But hope You infuse in the despondent psyche,
This the world does realize.
Sarkarverse article
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Sunday, December 3, 2023
Divine mercy
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Your song may be frightening, but even in fear You make us sing.
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