A man is born as a chalice of emptiness,
Unknown to where or when it shall be placed,
But a certainty remains that it is a chalice,
That it can be filled with some form of liquescent.
Thus, it is wise to ask, what makes a great man?
Orderly or free-willed?
Out-spoken or mysterious?
Exclusive or limitless?
Valiant or serpentine?
Classic or rebellious?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem