The perennial uncertainty which we hate,
Becomes less of enemy, more of mate.
Do we, then, wait in hopes of good fate?
Are we fated to wait or wait for fate?
If faith in fate makes one wait,
Does this waiting lead to hate?
Why not we stop this wait and hate
Leaving no chance for ‘enemy' to berate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem