(Dedicated to H. W. Longfellow.)
I shall stand unbowed, unflinching,
At the stinging darts of life;
Though my soul with pain is pinching,
I shall bear the battle's strife.
Though I be completely shaken,
And shed tears that burn like fire,
Though the things I love be taken,
And the seas are rising higher,
And though life should knock me over,
And my head be smeared with blood,
I shall rise again, nor cower,
Till my heart's last thundering thud.
And to gain the longed-for guerdon,
I shall struggle on uphill,
And I'll bear my crushing burden
With an adamantine will.
(David Mitchell, All Saints' Day,2013)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem