O' What a throbbing attitude,
For my delicious solitude.
For on the grass yet greenly still,
And in the gardens of the hill.
Shall I go about it all,
I'm neither tall nor am I small.
And with the same distrust in eyes,
I cannot even take long sighs.
I have to try and try again.
To make one shiny ray to ten.
Up the mountain of success,
I will go- whatever distress
To seek the glory of my might,
And burn a candle in the night.
To learn and rise no matter what,
To study and sense what nature taught.
Forget the shadows that decay,
To indicate the brightening day.
And then I'll tell the world I can
Be in the triumph out of this pan.
O' What a throbbing aptitude.
For my delicious solitude.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
thankx i really needed it