Who are those who enjoy running?
Who shall tell them the rigors of flight?
Running in fair or inclement weather,
Swing their arms through the dome of light.
Everything mortal has moments immortal,
Dedicated and gifted, immeasurably bright,
So with the stretch of the road just ahead,
Behold, a shower rainbowed by the sunlight.
A roadway that is stained with gray shadows,
On and on with determination completes the run,
Delighted in the touch of the breeze and sunlight,
Delighted with the sweaty run - I am one.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
well written and nicely said.