You can see I care less,
Yes, i have no quick race,
To pale up my face,
With too much stress.
I walked in black,
Tiptoed in the dark,
I thought I had seldom luck,
Thus a doom of forever lack.
Always been through thorns,
Collided with horns,
Hurt on stones,
Then, chocked by corns.
They scolded, am blind,
I watched them behind,
Without making up my mind,
That happiness I'll find.
By walking in the night,
I didn't want a fight,
So I made my life tight,
To destine my right.
As of history are ages,
I wrote that in diary pages,
Since these are life stages,
That come ante wages.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is good art continue to express thought