In this world, there is nothing meaner,
Than slamming the man stood in the arena.
It is all too easy for others to criticise,
But they need to look through his eyes.
Inside his chest, his heart may be hammering;
Due to nerves, he may be stood there stammering;
During the message, which he is delivering,
He may stand on stage with his hands quivering.
The man in the arena should feel proud
That he gave his best and faced the crowd.
To be in his position, takes nerves of steel;
Others should consider how he may feel.
It is all too easy to stand in the wings
And say a whole lot of hurtful things.
He may have shed blood, sweat and tears,
And yet others criticism is all he may hear.
The man in the arena is in the line of fire;
To win critical acclaim may be his one desire.
Others don't know what he is going through:
I wonder how they would fair in his shoes?
The critics themselves may have never competed:
Never experienced victory; never felt defeated.
But, at least he has given it his very best shot;
It is he who is the hero - the critics are not.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem