My days were suffused with miseries,
For my heart was devoid of kindness.

I have never thought of its birth wifhin me,
For hatred was blooming, not thorns-free.

Once I was under my warm quill.
A voice said to me without much shrill.

"Cling to me and grow me in your garden.
I will bear happiness, not grief-stricken.

I am virtue; I came from His divine treasury.
Who takes care of me need not worry.

He will build a place in His heaven,
And i will take you there one by one."