1. My God, You made me a poet
And over the years it became

2. How could it not when I studied its markets
Like the ruins of its ancient lords

3. Poetry needs a sustainer
Woe to those who intend stinginess

4. I pick from my poetry's garden for them
To scatter roses on those sleeping

5. O Sustainer of the worlds, enrich me
With Your bounty if I seek people

6. Behold, I a poet standing
At Your door, O Most Generous