Let my tree be cut!
Its roots be pulled out!
Just plant your seed in my death!
I am worthy of the blow,
No longer to be counted as a son.
Write off with a painful ruber!
The enemy must be crushed into my heart.
Let me see all my nakedness to hate to be my own shadow.
Let my river be gone
And my bones became sand dunes.
If I am to perish, let it be for you,
Who brings the nothing to fullness.
Let me be valued into Your coin!
Let my tubes pump Your blood to be saved!
Then I will be happy to be just a copy of You,
A print in the dust.