Hard times taught me how to walk.
Toes of my feet grew sore, slowing my climbing
But since the sacred duty of progression
Kept fondling my ear I had to keep going.
Humble ideas and thoughts
Brought about principal ideals
To be established.
In the wilderness I met
Old sages who unconsciously revealed to me
That longing is a pain concealed.
And I had no choice but
To concede with them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem