Munch-Petersen, Gustaf my prayer

my prayer

o god -,
o god -,
my sight will turn hazy -!

the limping,
out-reaching fear
does break the purity
of creative rhythm -,
the worshipping falsity
of hopeless fear
does lock the ears
to the resounding power
of creative pride -

god, give me
the forcing translation
of the urge in the storm,
of the voice in the rising sun -,
give me
the binding power,
that ropes-in the many,
that forces the frightened
into the rhythm
of creative will -

god, show me
the name of my mate,
the only -,
that, like a column of blood, my tree
may stand out -
this is my prayer -