Come, wash your aching and bloody breast,
With my healing balm I will do the rest;
Bathe in the lavish sunshine underneath the tree,
‘Tis My Paradise alone that is given for free.
With halting steps to my Master I spoke:
Lord, I am not worthy, for my vows I broke;
I have scarred your mountains, their rock-ribs I took,
I have tainted with red your chattering brook.
I have tamed your forests with trees reaching the sky,
I have shot your squirrels without saying goodbye;
Your green-cloaked hills without pity I dwarfed,
I made them equal to the grassy turf.
Your rose-scented air playing violin to my hair,
I have wantonly smeared with odors you can’t bear;
At my youth’s blood no more roars the ocean,
In my careless ways I turned it to poison.
Puny man, you’re my endless fairy tale,
My masterpiece of gold, don’t look so pale;
Come hither, thou art so beautiful;
My divine image, you’re so wonderful.
Lord, my living God, You said the word ,
And my soul is healed.###