Hands what’s the point? Film by Aryasb Feiz. Poem: The Messenger of Mary.
Hands, what’s the point?
The fate of the people,
So here I am
Have nothing to do.
I don’t care about their lives!
I’m my little man
Keeping my hands
At the bottom of the pockets,
Even if you think it’s ugly!
I never hold the elevator
Not my brother, not my sister.
I walk with aplomb
Without catching the balloons,
Nor the big shopping carts that pass:
It’ll unbalance my carcass.
I am not a volunteer
To save the earth.
But...that’s who’s fooling her
Who’s holding my wrist?
Ah, she wants to cross.
So hurry up, bug!
Come on, old lady, you moving?
The light will go red!
Suddenly, a big car
Rush on us at full speed,
Ah, I immediately take my hand out of my pocket
And beckons him to stop immediately,
So she wouldn’t crush my noggin
Or that of the clopin-cloping grandma.
The nice little lady pinches my cheek
Full of gratitude,
And deliver me from my yoke
Giving my life a new meaning:
These hands
What
Are not, my faith,
Not good for nothing?
Like the evil apostle,
I lived only for myself,
I was dead for the others,
My life now will be good!
Because I’m not a river:
I can go back
And use my hands
Only to do good.
I will make bloom in hearts,
The bells of May,
Yes, I will now spread
Happiness is all around me!
I’ll clean the beaches,
The smile on my face,
And give my time
To the little children,
Out of love for my God,
I’ll cuddle the older ones,
I will take care of the afflicted,
And not despise the stranger.
My great happiness
Will be to make that of my neighbor
With my heart,
My soul and those tiny little hands.
And if I ever meet
The poor man I was,
I will do for him what Jesus
Fit for me out of love.
Негізгі бет Hands what’s the point? Film by Aryasb Feiz. Poem: The Messenger of Mary.
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