When fortune does not favour us, 'tis Fate;
When Fortune favours us, we call it Luck;
Some realise this only when 'tis late;
Some call the art of getting luck as pluck.
Thus, Destiny is in our very hands;
We can well change our plight if it is bad;
On how the pilot drives, aeroplane lands;
A lazy man makes life for himself sad.
A coward takes refuge in word called 'Fate',
The brave will fight their way till success comes;
Sometimes, 'tis tough to open success gate;
Great bitterness exists in ripe red-plums.
Why blame or praise the Stars that stay always?
Our labour sustained brings us our D-days.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem