When Sabbath calls,
and the roman bell
from the dome of Paul
betrays our ear...
then,the step of mama approaches
to wake us up,
but as it was said some years back,

A year I really don't know,
except a reference to some ancient literatures
or the face of the Bible,
'Spare the rod,and spoil the child'
Mama with her merciless whip,
in combination with her natural rods,
I mean,her hands and her words,
Work on our body
like the anvil and hammer
of a Goldsmith with metallic heart.
Mother,you are right,
I haven't grown up to be as you wish,

I haven't grown up to be 'SOC',
I mean,the Son Of Christ
that you want me to be,
but I wish you could view deep
into the heart,body and tissues
that came from your nine month sacrifice,

I wish you really care to do,
then you will see that
the son you have groomed all your life,
have not disappointed his maker,
nor the reason for his being.
This is the last wish I seek from you Mama,
when the eyes of morrow is clear,
and her heart is surely set for Sabbath,
come with your whip,
No,I mean,your anvil,
and with your natural rods,

Nay,I mean,your hammer...
Then,you will be caught in amazement that,
even before the call from Paul's dome,
I have been to the Romanian gathering
of the Sabbath call.

I am a son of Christ...

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