A peculiar train running on and takes all to destiny,
Crowd -travelers enjoying the journey up to the end,
Gossipin', quarrelin', laughin', smilin', lovin', fightin',
Straight journey without any fend but with the bend,
They have chosen kings and Queen, pawn and beggar,
Crown on head, bowl on hand, on hand sword or dagger,
Destined to dust—all have chosen to be called late,
Not by their Will but by The God - the brazen fate
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem